


Sail Away With Me (to Another World)

by TeamHPForever



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has never had a problem with the Starfleet regulation against dating coworkers. He compartmentalizes: his work life on one side and his personal life on the other. He knows things are different on starships, but he has a desk job on Earth and he tells himself that he’s fine with that. That’s until a certain Vulcan walks into his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from "Islands in the Stream" sung by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. 
> 
> Just for clarification, this is tagged as both TOS and AOS because it has elements of both. For instance, Kirk, Spock, and Bones's personalities are mostly based off of TOS. However, Kirk and Spock's backstories, both Marcus and Pike, and some other details are drawn from AOS.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Jim has never had a problem with the Starfleet regulation against dating coworkers. He compartmentalizes: his work life on one side and his personal life on the other. He knows things are different on starships, but he has a desk job on Earth and he tells himself that he’s fine with that. He’s on track to have Marcus’s job by the end of the year after all.

That’s until a certain Vulcan walks into his office.

He’s sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers and wondering if he can sneak off an hour early without anyone noticing.

Most of the Starfleet officials are at a conference in Tokyo at the moment, leaving him behind to keep an eye on things. There isn’t even anything to _do._ He’s already finished all of his paperwork through half of next week and with everyone in Tokyo he’s not expecting any reports from other departments, not today anyway.

The knock on the door is solid and methodical. Kirk starts, glancing down at his calendar. He’s not expecting anyone today. Maybe it’s Tracy from accounting come to give him that lecture about “business expenses” that she’s been promising for almost as long as he’s worked for Starfleet.

“Come in,” Kirk calls.

It isn’t Tracy from accounting. It isn’t anyone he knows.

Standing on the other side of the door is a Vulcan, tall and slender with those characteristic upswept eyebrows, dark brown hair in a bowl cut, and pointed ears. He stares back at Kirk.

“I am Spock,” the Vulcan says.

Kirk starts to stand before he remembers that Vulcans don’t like to shake hands. “Kirk. James Kirk.”

“Admiral Marcus sent me,” Spock continues.

Marcus had been promising Kirk his own assistant for a couple months but Kirk didn’t expect him to ever follow through. Spock isn’t exactly what he had in mind either.

“Are you here for the assistant position?” Kirk shifts into boss mode, sitting up properly in his chair and gesturing for Spock to sit down on the other side of the desk.

Spock does, his back ramrod straight. “I believe the official position is for a liaison between Starfleet's command and science departments.”

“Right. Can you tell me about your qualifications?” Kirk wishes that he’d had some warning, even just a chance to skim over Spock’s resume. He hates feeling unprepared.

“Admiral Marcus gave me the impression that the job was mine. Was I mistaken, Mr. Kirk?”

Kirk makes a mental note to have a chat with Marcus when he returns from Tokyo. It’s one thing to check out possible applicants for the assistant—liaison—position and quite another to actually _hire_ someone without even contacting him first.

Spock’s staring at him. It’s disconcerting. Kirk realizes that he hasn’t responded to the Vulcan’s question. “No, no. The job is yours.” Kirk isn’t sure why he’s saying it, when he isn’t so certain himself. He doesn’t know anything about this guy. “I just like to know who I’ll be working with.”

“I graduated Starfleet Academy with top honors, followed by two years in the science department,” Spock replies, his voice formal and expressionless.

Kirk bites back the obvious questions of why a Vulcan would be attending Starfleet rather than the Vulcan Science Academy. It must have shown on his face, however, because Spock continues, “I am half-human. I refused admittance to the Vulcan Science Academy.”

Kirk nods while a part of his brain ponders how that had gone over with the heads of that particular academy. He hasn’t known many Vulcans, but those he has in the course of his duties at Starfleet don’t seem like the type to easily stomach refusal of what’s supposed to be a great honor. Kirk thinks that he might like this guy, whoever he is.

“I assume that Admiral Marcus explained the position to you,” Kirk says.

“Yes, sir.” Spock’s gaze is still fixed on him, unblinking. “He was clear on my responsibilities as liaison.”

Kirk supposes that’s a comfort, at least. One of them should know what Spock is meant to be doing. “Good. Well…there isn’t a lot to do around here while most of the officials are in Tokyo. Would you like me to show you to your office so that you can get settled?”

“That will not be necessary.” Kirk feels a strange heat in his chest as Spock’s gaze softens just slightly. “I know of my new location.”

Kirk isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just nods and says, “Welcome to the team, Mr. Spock.”

“Thank you, sir.” Spock moves with surprising grace despite his stiffness. Kirk watches him go, refusing to consider the strange feeling of emptiness left behind.

As hard as Kirk tries to keep his attention on his work for the rest of the afternoon, he finds it all but impossible. Thoughts of Spock keep getting in the way. Who are his parents? Why did he refuse to attend the Vulcan Science Academy and join Starfleet instead? How did he come across the position as liaison? Why did he want an office position, anyway? Surely there are any number of vessels that would be glad to have someone with Spock’s experience and Vulcan connections.

Kirk cuts off work about fifteen minutes early. It isn’t like there’s anyone around to tell him off for it.

He stops by Spock’s office to let him know. The Vulcan’s office is still as bare as when it was unoccupied, just the minimal necessities and a complete lack of personal items.

“Hey, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says, sticking his head through the open door. “I’m going to head out. I’m thinking of getting dinner around the corner, if you’d like to join.”

“No, thank you, sir,” Spock replies. “There are a number of tasks requiring my attention at present. I would prefer the extra time to allow me to get settled before the Tokyo conference ends.”

“Suit yourself.” Kirk shrugs. “Do you know how to lock up?”

Spock stares at him with his eyebrows raised like Kirk just asked him if he’s sure he knows how to breathe. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Well, have a good night.” Kirk hurries away and out of the office before he hands away any more of his dignity.

It’s a few days before the Starfleet superiors return from Tokyo and Kirk is surprised by how normal things are. Spock turns out to be a fantastic worker and keeps to himself, even once the office is bustling with activity again. Despite the first rejection, it becomes a goal for Kirk to ask Spock to dinner every night. He wonders if he’s being too persistent but then Spock seems like the type to just tell him to stop if it’s too much. Vulcans aren’t exactly known for being subtle about their dissent.

Kirk answers a knock on his door to find Admiral Marcus standing on the other side.

“How are you finding the new command-science liaison?” he asks.

Kirk remembers his resolve to give his boss a piece of his mind about hiring an assistant without even telling him he was considering anyone but decides to let it go. He certainly doesn’t have any complaints about Spock’s work so where’s the harm. “Excellent.”

“He may be Vulcan but they rave about him in the science department,” Marcus replies.

Kirk bristles at the implication and his tone is stiff as he says, “I think he’ll do a wonderful job.”

Marcus nods. “Let’s hope so.”

“Is there something you need, sir?” Having Marcus in his office makes Kirk’s skin itch. When he’d first started working at Starfleet he’d idolized the man, having grown up hearing stories about his military victories, but the longer he’s known him the less he likes him. It seems the stories are far from warranted.

“I need reports on everything that I missed while in Tokyo on my desk by Monday morning,” Marcus replies. “And get with the engineering research department. I want specs on the new ship that they’re planning.”

Getting specs from engineering research is damn near impossible. They’re jealous guardians of their blueprints—for good reason—and it’s unlikely that he would be able to get his hands on the things. There’s no reason that he needs to be kept apprised of designs and, quite frankly, neither does Marcus.

“I’m sure that they would be happy to give you the specs,” Kirk replies, wondering how many dead fish would end up in the backseat of his car if Scotty knew that he’d said that. He’ll take that risk if it means getting Marcus off his back.

“I’m sure they would be.” Marcus straightens up, practically preening at the suggestion. “But I asked you to get them.” His tone darkens into a clear implication that if Kirk can’t get them he’ll find someone who can.

Kirk concedes. “Yes, sir.”

“Monday morning, Kirk.” Marcus leaves and Kirk finds that he can finally breathe easy. He lets out a sigh and rests his head on his desk.

“Sir?” A now-familiar Vulcan voice brings him back to Earth.

“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Kirk lifts up his head and blinks until his vision clears. Spock steps across the threshold, dressed in his typical science officer uniform. Once again, Kirk wonders why he deserted the department in favor of working in what he believes to be a fairly dull office.

“I have the information you requested.” Spock holds up a stack of papers, hopefully detailing the progress of the newest Earth colony.

“Thank you.” Kirk reaches out and Spock crosses the room to hand them over.

“Will that be all?”

Kirk opens his mouth to say “yes” and is surprised when a question comes out instead. “Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“I must decline. You are no doubt going to ask me to assist with the preparation of the reports Admiral Marcus has requested detailing any events that have occurred in his absence. I will need adequate time to prepare them.” From anyone else that would have sounded like sass, but it’s Spock.

“Right. Yes.” Kirk isn’t really sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t thought about needing Spock’s help but now he’s starting to realize that he’s right. There’s no way he can compile that much information before Monday by himself, not if he ever wants to leave the office. “Thanks, Mr. Spock.”

“Of course, Mr. Kirk.”

“Would you like to get drinks with me tonight? It’ll be quick, just a couple hours. Won’t interfere with our work time at all.”

Spock looks thoughtful for a moment. “Thank you for the offer, but my experiments will require my attention tonight.”

“Sure. All right.” Kirk waves goodbye and heads out for the weekend. Maybe a couple days out of the office will take his mind off the Vulcan. He doesn’t know why he spends so much time thinking about him, anyway.

Spock’s just an assistant. Just a coworker. Just any other guy in the office who happens to have piercing brown eyes and long fingers that Kirk can see up close anytime he passes him a file…no. He definitely isn’t thinking about Spock’s fingers.

Damn, he needs a vacation.

Which is why he finds himself at his favorite club, an Orion girl in the chair next to him and a pitcher of beer between them. Her name is Onilee and she’s intelligent, a top researcher for a private firm, and absolutely gorgeous. On any other night he’d be delighted to be out with her. He can feel words coming out of his mouth, but he can’t focus long enough to know exactly what he’s saying.

It must have been good because, after a while, she leans across the table to kiss him. She tastes like tequila. He’s drunk enough not to notice when the table is pushed aside until she’s slipping into his lap. He closes his eyes and one word slips out from between his lips. “Spock.”

Onilee freezes and leans back, her eyes wide. “What did you just say?” she hisses.

Kirk’s awareness jolts back into focus. What had he just said? She’d been kissing him and his mind had wandered and…and…shit. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Right.” She pushes herself off his lap, long hair whipping him in the face as she turns. “Don’t call me again. I’m out of here.” Kirk doesn’t have time to launch a protest before she’s disappearing into the crowd.

He slumps back against the chair and takes a gulp of his beer. This can’t be good. Not at all.

Kirk spends what little free time he has between working on reports out on the town. He gets a few more numbers, goes out on another date, and by the time the weekend rolls to a close he’s hopeful that he’s gotten whatever he feels for Spock out of his system.

The moment he walks through the door and sees Spock sitting there, enraptured in stacks of reports, he knows he’s lying to himself. “Hey, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says brightly. Spock stares back at him with his usual impassiveness. “How was your weekend?”

“Satisfactory, sir.” Spock returns his attention back to the paperwork. “I am forwarding the reports that Admiral Marcus requested to you. I hope that will be sufficient.”

“Thanks, Mr. Spock. You’re a lifesaver.” Kirk dashes away to his office and focuses on the hardest task of all—getting his hands on the blueprints for the newest addition to the fleet. It only takes the suggestion that he needs them for Scotty’s anger to rise to the point where his Scottish accent is almost impossible to understand.

“Please, Scotty,” Kirk most definitely does _not_ plead. “Marcus is demanding those plans. Can you just send along an older draft and I’ll tell him it’s the best I could do?”

“If you think I’m going to let that bastard see her before she’s finished…” Scotty goes on for several minutes while Kirk stares at the wall and waits for him to talk himself out. It takes multiple promises of drinks on Kirk, but finally he agrees to send along the first draft of the blueprints.

“Thanks, Scotty,” Kirk says, relaxing back into his chair. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me four, as promised. And not the cheap stuff either, Kirk. The best scotch they have.”

“Of course.” Kirk tries not to wince. “The next time we go out.”

“You’d better.” Kirk hangs up the phone and lets out a sigh. His mood isn’t improved by Marcus sticking his head through the door and scowling at him.

“Where are those plans, Kirk? I didn’t see them in the reports.”

Kirk forces himself to smile back at him. “They’re on their way, sir. I’ll have them on your desk before lunch. They’re still working on the final drafts of the blueprints, but I managed to track down an earlier draft.”

Marcus nods but he’s still wearing a deep-set frown. “That’ll do.”

“You’re welcome,” Kirk hisses in a low voice once the admiral is gone.

When the blueprints arrive, Kirk flips open the file and sneaks a look He’s seen a lot of ships in his life, but this one takes his breath away. Even in the rough drawing, she’s streamlined and elegant with plenty of storage space for unprecedented long journeys. Whoever captained her would be a very lucky man. No wonder Scotty wanted to keep these plans close to the vest. If this is just the first draft, he can’t wait to see the final product.

Kirk reluctantly drops them off on Marcus’s desk while the man is out before heading back to his own office. A call from Spock brings him to a stop.

“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Kirk peeks into the Vulcan’s office. If he’d expected any personal changes over the week that the Vulcan has worked in there, he’s disappointed. The office remains as bare as it was on day one. Most Starfleet officers decorate their desks with photos of family or knickknacks—there’s a girl downstairs that has her entire desk covered with dragon replicas—but Spock doesn’t seem to have anything of the like.

“I would like to discuss the current reports from the science department with you,” Spock replies. There’s a stack of reports on his desk a foot high and Kirk gulps at the idea of going through them all.

“All right,” Kirk replies, his mouth suddenly dry. “Come down to my office when you’re ready.”

“Is now an appropriate time?”

“Sure.” Spock stands and follows Kirk down to his office, bringing only a few of the reports from the stack with him. Kirk settles easily into his chair but Spock stays stiff and formal sitting on the other side.

“Let’s hear it,” Kirk says, leaning forward. Just looking at Spock he can’t stop thinking about whispering his name into someone else’s ear. How much he wants to do that into the _right_ ear.

Kirk shakes his head. He can’t afford to get distracted. Spock is his assistant, nothing more. Even if Kirk was interested, Spock clearly isn’t. He’s dedicated to his job, unattainable, _Vulcan._

Spock opens the first file, rattling off information and statistics regarding samples obtained from a nearby planet. The results are preliminary and anything further is out of their jurisdiction but it seems that the planet might be a candidate for an Earth colony. Spock freezes as he seems to realize how fast he’s going. “I apologize. Was I speaking too quickly?”

Kirk shakes his head. He’d gotten lost in the sound of the Vulcan’s voice, explaining complicated concepts with the ease of long familiarity. “No, it’s fine. Is there any chance that there’s already a claim to the planet?”

“I am not familiar with territorial claims on that area of space. However, I estimate the probability of intelligent life on the planet at 17.3%. There is a wide variety of flora and fauna but sensors indicate that the planet is not inhabited.”

Kirk is so swept up in everything that he doesn’t realize that his chest is almost pressed against the desk in his desire to lean forward. “If sensors indicate there isn’t any life, why is the probability so high?”

“A margin for error must always be considered, taking into account the likelihood for lifeforms that the sensors cannot identify.”

“Right.” Kirk mentally shakes himself and sits back in his chair. “What’s the next report?”

The rest of the files take some time to get through, mostly because Kirk keeps asking questions. He’s never really had a lot of interest in the workings of the science department but with Spock there he finds it all the more fascinating and he certainly understands it. Even Spock seems to enjoy himself. Kirk can’t help but wonder if he’s ever been able to talk to anyone this avidly about his experiments outside of his own department.

Or even inside of his own department.

Which is why Kirk can’t stop himself from asking, just one more time, “Do you want to have dinner tonight?”

“May I inquire why?” It isn’t an outright no, at least.

Kirk shrugs. He can’t exactly say _because I find you intriguing and I’m trying to figure out why._ “I like to get to know the people that I’m working with.” That sounds like a perfectly innocent reason to take a coworker to dinner. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s done so.

“If I accept, will you cease asking?” Spock doesn’t look exasperated or amused, like he’s only accepting to get Kirk off his back. It’s infuriating, not being able to get a read on him. Of course, Kirk’s never been one to step down from a challenge.

“Is that a yes?”

Kirk thinks he might be reading too much into it, but Spock looks just the tiniest bit smug as he answers, “I accept your offer to accompany you to dinner.”

He’d been asking for so long that Kirk isn’t exactly prepared for Spock to actually say yes. Where will they go? What will they talk about? Reminders of Friday night and Onilee keep intruding. “Great. Is it okay if we take off right after work?”

“That would be satisfactory.”

“Perfect. Are we done here?” Kirk gestures at the reports now scattered across his own desk. Spock gathers them up methodically, making sure everything is in order. Kirk isn’t ready for him to leave quite yet but he can’t think of any logical reason to keep Spock there any longer.

“That is all the reports, sir,” Spock replies.

“Great. Forward the information on that planet to Marcus so that he can get it to Starfleet Command. I imagine they’ll want to sanction an exploratory mission. That’s all I’ve got…unless you have something else you need to talk about?”

“I have nothing. I will be at my desk if you have need of me.” Spock leaves and Kirk lets out a sigh, turning his attention to the large file of paperwork on his pad. There’s still so much that he has to do—having the officials back means everyone has something that they want him to do _right away_ —but he keeps thinking about Spock and dinner.

Most of his usual haunts are out. Just trying to picture him standing under the flashing lights of his favorite club makes Kirk want to laugh until he can’t breathe. About half of his favorite restaurants are out, either because they’re not Vulcan-friendly or because they’re too fancy. It’s just a casual thing, dinner between friends. Coworkers. Whatever.

Kirk clicks away from the paperwork and starts looking up restaurants to check to see if they have things a Vulcan would enjoy. In the end, he settles on an Italian place just down the street. It’s small, quiet, and the food is amazing. Plus they have an entire section of vegetarian options.

Now he only has to wait until the end of the day. It’s the longest afternoon of his life. Spock still isn’t done working when he wanders down to his office to see if he’s ready to head out.

“Ready to go?” Kirk asks.

Spock looks up. If Kirk didn’t know any better, he would swear that he saw the smallest hint of a smile. “One minute.”

Sixty seconds later—Kirk counted—Spock tucks the last of the paperwork on his desk into a drawer, making his desk look even less used than usual, and gets to his feet. Kirk steps back to give him some room to lock up.

“Where are we going?” Spock asks as they step out of the building and into the evening sun.

“You’ll see.” The streets bustle with activity that comes with the end of the work day. Kirk navigates with years of practice and Spock follows along quietly beside him. The restaurant is full but they’re lucky enough to slip in right as another couple is going out.

“I hope this is okay,” Kirk says, not sure what to do with the silence lingering between them. It’s not uncomfortable but he isn’t used to long silences. He likes to talk and he likes people who like to talk.

“This place seems sufficient.” Spock surveys the room with a casual expression. “I must admit that I haven’t had much of a chance to survey Earth culture in my time here.”

“You’ve been here for several years.” Kirk works to keep his jaw from falling open.

“I have had other priorities.”

Kirk can barely go a couple days without “surveying Earth culture” He can’t even imagine someone being here for over two years without at least seeing the sights. “Have you seen anything in the city?”

“I went on a tour upon my arrival.” Spock doesn’t sound particularly impressed by it, but then again he did come from Vulcan. Kirk had been on a tour once or twice and they weren’t nearly as good as getting the up-close-and-personal look on your own or with someone who really knows the city.

“You haven’t just, I don’t know, gone exploring?”

“I have not.”

Kirk’s still trying to figure out how to respond to that, especially considering Spock’s obvious level of scientific curiosity, when their waiter arrives. Kirk goes for his favorite, the lasagna, and Spock follows suit but with vegetarian. Once the waiter is gone, he turns his attention back to Spock. “The best way to see the city is with a local.”

“Would you advise another tour?”

“Definitely not. I’ll show you around.” This is bad. They haven’t even gotten their food yet on the first date—not a date—and he’s already planning their second—also not a date. He just knows that he really wants to be there when Spock sees the city for the first time. Maybe he could even get the Vulcan to crack a real smile or something. Not likely, but he isn’t willing to step down from the challenge just yet.

“And what would you recommend?”

It’s not a no and Kirk will accept that. He immediately launches into a list of the places where he’d start, all of his favorite little corner places and the bridge, of course, and the Starfleet Museum (which it turns out Spock has already seen) and the beach and a whole array of other attractions. When their food comes and there’s a pause in the conversation, Kirk marvels at how easy it is to talk to Spock. His expression doesn’t change much, but he seems curious and he asks plenty of questions.

“Do you miss your experiments?” Kirk asks, once they’ve exhausted the subject of the city.

Spock raises his eyebrows in what Kirk is starting to realize is his equivalent of a shrug. “I keep a number of experiments in addition to my work in your office,” Spock replies.

“But do you miss working there?”

Spock looks confused. “Will desiring a return to my position in the science department help me in my current responsibilities?”

Kirk stares at him, wondering how he can even be real. “I suppose not, but I was just wondering.”

“I enjoyed my work in the science department but when the position of liaison was offered to me, I accepted. I am not able to keep as many experiments as I previously conducted. However, I do not mind.”

Of course not. Spock _did not mind_ anything. The more Spock keeps close to the vest, the more Kirk wants to know about him. It makes Kirk wonder if the two of them could actually be friends. Though the daydreams of him shoving Spock against the wall of his office kind of interfered with that chance. “What experiments are you running?” Kirk asks, steering his thoughts away from those troubled waters.

Spock jumps into a talk about his projects with new eagerness. He speaks easily, not bothering to even attempt to avoid technical terms and doing his best to explain when Kirk doesn’t understand something. Kirk doesn’t even realize how much time is passing until he glances out the window only to notice that it’s dark outside. The restaurant is mostly empty, just a few stragglers hurrying to fit in a late dinner.

“We should hit it,” Kirk says, shooting an apologetic smile at the guy giving them pointed looks while wiping down tables.

“Hit it, sir?” Spock says slowly, like he’s feeling the words in his mouth.

That more than anything reminds Kirk of a reality where he’s Spock’s boss and this isn’t supposed to be anything more than a friendly “getting to know you” dinner. Not that he wants anything more. Of course not. “We should leave,” Kirk says in way of explanation.

“I believe that is the correct thing to do.”

Kirk waves for the bill and doesn’t protest when Spock moves to split it. The evening outside is chilly and Kirk pulls his coat tighter around him as he waves for a cab.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks as he opens the back door.

Spock shakes his head. “I do not think we are going in the same direction.”

“Okay.” Kirk slips into the back seat. “I’ll see you at work.”

“See you at work, sir.” Kirk closes the door and watches Spock out the window as they drive away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

If Kirk expects anything to change between him and Spock, he’s disappointed. Spock’s as formal and distant as the job allows. If he smiles more when Kirk comes to check on various reports, then it’s just because Kirk notices it more with his increased familiarity with the Vulcan. Or at least that’s what he insists to himself. He’s still convinced that anything he feels toward Spock will disappear with time.

It’s just curiosity. It’s been a long time since they’ve had new blood in the office and never anyone as mysterious as Spock. Not anything special. Or at least that’s what he tells himself every night when his face appears in his imagination as he falls asleep.

Kirk doesn’t know what kind of change he hopes to see in Spock. Maybe just an acknowledgment that they had dinner, that maybe they showed the potential of being friends. He had an awesome time and, while he couldn’t speak for Spock, Kirk thought he had too. But Friday rolls around again without a single sign that anything is different.

Kirk decides what he really needs is some time off. He’ll take his couple days of freedom and head up north. That’ll take his mind off things.

Which is why he almost explodes when Marcus steps into his office and the first words out of his mouth are, “There are a stack of reports on my desk. I need them all filed tonight.”

Kirk bites his tongue to keep from suggesting that Marcus should do them himself if he wants them done tonight. But he isn’t really up for a job hunt. He pretends to consider his calendar as he replies, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Marcus disappears without another word. Kirk waits until he’s far enough away that he’s out of hearing before slamming his fist down on the desk. So much for a bit of vacation. He’s so sick of being used and walked all over.

Of course Spock chooses that moment to stop outside the door. “Do you require assistance, sir?” he asks, the slightest hint of understanding in his voice as he nods in Marcus’s direction.

“No.” Kirk sighs heavily. “One of us should enjoy their evening.”

“I insist.” He takes a step inside the office.

“All right.” At least they can finish quicker between the two of them. At best, it might actually be enjoyable with Spock there. Kirk stands up and follows Spock down to Marcus’s office. The instructed paperwork is at least a foot high in a neat stack. “Let’s get started.”

They settle down on opposite sides of the desk, splitting the pile without saying a word. The paperwork is tedious and it isn’t long before Kirk can feel a headache taking root in his temple. “Think Marcus would notice if we just left this for Monday?” Kirk asks an hour later. Their respective shares are slightly lighter but it will still be a good three hours before they’re done.

“I can handle this, sir,” Spock says without looking up.

“No.” Kirk grits his teeth with renewed determination. If Spock can stay late and do all of this himself, then the least he can do is his own share. The words seem to break the silence hanging between them and they speak easily as they work after that.

Spock tells him about all the advancements he’s made in his research that week. He finished one project dealing with water samples taken near the bridge and started another that has something to do with stars.

“And I’m working on the Kobayashi Maru for next year,” he continues.

Kirk drops a report on the floor in surprise “The Kobayashi Maru.” He’d never taken it, since he didn’t have ambitions of becoming a ship captain, but he’s still heard tales. “You write that.”

“Yes.” Spock sounds almost bored, like coding the world’s hardest test is on the same level as filing reports.

“So how do you beat it?” Spock gives him a look and Kirk quails a bit, standing up to file away a sheaf of papers. “What if I promise not to tell anyone?”

“I still would not elaborate.”

“Of course not.” Kirk crouches next to the file cabinet. They lapse into silence for a few minutes before he asks about Spock’s star project.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to serve on a starship?” Kirk asks. Just listening to Spock talk about all the wonders of the universe makes it obvious—to him at least—that the Vulcan should be among them. Studying them. Discovering new ones.

“I am certain.” Spock jots a note on one of the reports and goes to file it.

Kirk wants nothing more than to ask why Spock is so determined that he’ll never go back into space, especially considering he’s from space himself, but he doesn’t want to pry too much. Not when things are going so well.

“I think we’re done here,” Kirk says as he files away the last report and smiles at the now-clean desk. He stretches and his back cracks. It’s about four hours after he’d normally be gone, and yet he can’t find it in himself to be furious at Marcus. “It’s late. Do you want some dinner? I’ll treat.”

“I am fine, sir.” Spock pushes his chair back in where it belongs and closes the filing cabinet. Kirk follows him out of the office, pausing to lock up.

“It’s the least I can do for you helping me,” Kirk presses. “It’s an Earth custom.”

Spock considers him for a moment, his face blank, and finally replies, “All right.”

Kirk grins back at him, already running through a list of places that would be open this late. The options aren’t very many, especially taking Spock’s vegetarian diet into account. “Is Chinese okay?”

“That would be satisfactory.”

“Good.” Before Kirk knows it, the two of them are standing outside on the dark street. It’s only a short walk to the Chinese place. Kirk orders for the both of them—ginger beef for himself and vegetable lo mein for Spock.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Kirk asks while they wait.

“Is this another Earth custom?”

“Well we have to eat somewhere.” It’s a logical point, Kirk tells himself. This is just two coworkers meeting up for dinner after a very long day at work and going back to his place because it’s convenient and the restaurant is closing.

He definitely isn’t thinking about Spock crawling into his bed or pressing him against the door as they come inside or sitting on the kitchen counter while Spock stands between his legs. Nothing like that.

He’s so lost in thought that Kirk almost misses Spock’s acceptance of the offer. Kirk grabs the food while Spock goes outside to whistle down a cab. There’s one waiting for the two of them when he steps outside. It only takes about fifteen minutes to get to his little apartment—it’s part of a rather nice complex and he’s proud of it—and Kirk spends most of that time trying to remember if he tidied up the place at all this morning.

The last thing he wants to do is bring Spock home to a disaster of an apartment. He’s tempted to run upstairs as soon as the cab stops at the curb, but Spock doesn’t know where he lives and shouting the number back to him as he runs at speeds faster than warp doesn’t seem very good.

He holds himself to a normal pace as the two of them head up the stairs. Kirk pauses just long enough to dig the key out of his pocket and open the door. He lets out a sigh of relief as he takes in his semi-clean apartment. It isn’t spotless or anything but at least his laundry isn’t all over the floor and there aren’t piles of dirty dishes in the sink.

“This is my place,” Kirk says as he leads Spock inside. He lets the door snap closed behind them and heads through to the kitchen, flipping the light on with his elbow. His apartment is rather spacious in comparison to some. There’s a respectable-sized living room, a proper kitchen, a small dining room, and a bedroom large enough for two.

“It is…” Kirk expects Spock to say something formal-sounding and hard to understand. Instead he finishes with, “representative of you.”

Kirk stumbles slightly and almost drops the food on the floor as he goes to set it down. He isn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not so he points to a drawer and says, “Silverware’s in there.”

He goes to the cabinet to get plates, exchanging one of them for a fork from Spock.

“Have you ever had Chinese before?” he asks as he pulls out the food and hands Spock his carton.

“Once. It was enjoyable.” Spock dishes half his carton onto his plate. “I…thank you.”

“Anytime.” Kirk smiles at him, but doesn’t receive one in return. Once their food is dished out, Kirk goes through to the dining room and they settle down next to each at the table. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Are you inquiring because you wish to make a suggestion?”

He can’t deny it. “Perhaps.”

“I have no plans for the next two days.”

Kirk looks down, realizing for the first time that Spock has laid aside his fork and is using chopsticks with accomplished ease. He makes a mental note to ask about that in a second and says, “I could show you around town.”

“Will greater familiarity with this city aid in my work?”

Kirk lets out as sigh. “How will you ever know if you don’t give it a try and find out?”

Spock wears an expression akin to exasperation, but he seems to accept the use of logic against him. “I agree to allow you to give me a tour tomorrow afternoon, if that is agreeable.” Kirk is too excited that he just said _yes_ to care about the overly complicated phrasing.

“Tomorrow it is.” Kirk grins and continues, before Spock can change his mind, “Where did you learn to use chopsticks?”

Spock glances down at his hands as he captures a mouthful of lo mein. “I have never used chopsticks before.”

Kirk is thoroughly shocked in silence. Comments like _What else can you do? o_ r _Wow, you must be a quick study_ rise to his tongue but he stuffs his mouth full of food until he’s able to push them away.

They speak casually for the rest of dinner and when they are done, Kirk picks up the plates and carries them to the kitchen. Spock follows behind silently and Kirk feels the full weight of the awkwardness of the situation.

Kirk is tempted to pull out a bottle of wine and offer Spock a glass but he isn’t sure if Vulcans even drink and he isn’t sure if he wants to go there. That would make it too much of a date. And even if Spock didn’t notice, he would know.

“I believe that it is time to depart,” Spock says, interrupting Kirk’s racing thoughts. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” Kirk can feel the moment slipping through his fingers like sand. He could still salvage it, could grab Spock’s wrist and ask him to stay. Instead, he follows his assistant to the front door. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at one?”

“That would be agreeable.” Spock steps through the door and his face softens ever so slightly. It isn’t a smile but it’s a change from his usual stiff, formal expression. “Good night, Kirk.”

“Good night, Spock.” Before Kirk has recovered from the sound of his name on the Vulcan’s lips, he’s gone. Kirk is left staring out into the empty hallway with his forehead twisted in thought.

In the morning Kirk rolls out of bed with far too much energy. He takes his time getting ready, absentmindedly planning out places that he wants to take Spock. He wishes that he’d asked Spock to meet him before lunch. The hours drag by slower than a long day in the office sorting reports alone.

A knock comes at one on the dot. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Spock was on time to the exact second. Kirk forces himself to take a few seconds getting off the couch and walking over to answer it. Spock is dressed simply but still relatively formal. “Hey,” Kirk says, moving aside to wave Spock in. “Give me a moment.” He goes into his bedroom and hurriedly exchanges his sweater for a button-up.

“Where are we going?” Spock asks when Kirk returns to the living room. Most people would have snooped around when left alone, but Spock is exactly where he was standing a couple minutes ago.

“I have some ideas,” Kirk teases. “Let’s go.” He doesn’t give Spock any more chances to ask before he rushes out the door. Spock follows him down to the street and they start to walk. It’s a beautiful day, sunny and cool enough to be comfortable in long-sleeves but not cold enough to need a jacket. There’s a hover tram that picks up just down the street. Kirk pays for both their tickets and Spock looks confused as they settle onto a seat.

“There’s nothing like riding through the city,” Kirk says. “It’s the best way to see everything at once.” He points out monuments as they pass. It turns out that, even though Spock has never actually _seen_ most of them, he knows a fair amount of the city’s history anyway.

There’s a stop just a half-mile from the beach so Kirk leads them off there. He can see the bridge in the distance, even from here. “That’s the Golden Gate Bridge,” he explains, pointing. “It was—”

“Once the longest suspension bridge in the world,” Spock interrupts. “Though, technically, that is a reconstruction, not the original bridge.”

“All right, all right.” Kirk grins. He admits that Spock might be even more knowledgeable about that kind of thing that he is, but that’s still not replacement for actual experience. “Just wait until you see it.”

Before too long, they step out onto the beach. The bridge extends out in the distance, jutting out from the coastline and out across the water. People are scattered along the sand, enjoying the beautiful weekend. Immediately, Kirk kicks off his shoes and rolls up his jeans before running down to the surf. The water laps around his ankles, cool against his skin.

“Come on!” he yells, waving to Spock. The other man hasn’t moved from next to his shoes up on the sand, like he’s afraid that if he comes down to the water someone might steal them. After a few more moments of hesitation, Spock steps down gingerly and stops out of reach of the water.

“It’s not going to bite,” Kirk continues, stopping short of adding _but I might if you’re into that._ The waves push up over the middle of his caves, threatening to soak the bottoms of his jeans.

“I have never been in the water,” Spock admits, a new wrinkle in his forehead. The waves slide up the sand until they poke at the tops of his shoes and he takes a quick step back.

The smile slips off of Kirk’s face. “Vulcan is a desert planet.”

“Yes, sir.” Spock takes another step back. “It is.”

“It’s not going to hurt you. Now come on.” Kirk starts to offer his hand but changes his mind when Spock shifts away. He keeps staring and kicking his feet in the water until Spock finally gives in and slips off his shoes. The Vulcan sits them carefully up on the sand by Kirk’s, folding his socks until they’re perfectly square.

A volleyball lands in the water next to Kirk with a splash. He catches it and sends it flying back up the beach to the girl jogging toward him. By the time he looks back, Spock is wandering back down the sand. Kirk steps out a little deeper, just enough that the edges of his pants are caught by the waves. He watches, smiling, as Spock pushes his toes into the wet sand before stepping into the water.

“It is cold,” Spock says. His voice is the same matter-of-fact tone that he always uses, but his eyes widen just ever so slightly with wonder.

Kirk chuckles. “You get used to it.” He continues walking along the beach, just close enough to the shallows that Spock can follow along beside him. A boy drags himself out of the water in front of them at the call of his mother. “I used to come out here all the time,” Kirk says. “Even tried to learn how to surf.”

“Surf, sir?”

“Spock, we’re not at the office,” Kirk scolds softly. “You can’t tell me that you don’t know what surfing is?”

“I am not aware of this activity,” Spock replies, ignoring the reprimand completely.

Kirk points at a group of surfers far out in the waves. “You paddle out on a board and try to ride the waves back to shore standing up. It’s fun.”

One of the surfers crashes head-first into the waves. “I do not share this sentiment.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” Kirk laughs and they continue along the water. They’ve been out for a while and Kirk’s skin is starting to feel warm by the time he decides they should turn back. He still has other stops that he wants to make.

“Where are you taking me, sir?” Spock asks as they put their shoes back on. If Kirk didn’t know any better, he’d swear the Vulcan is teasing him deliberately now.

“Some place that I think you’re going to like.” Under Kirk’s direction they catch the tram again and ride it back into the middle of town. There’s a stop directly across from the Starfleet Science Museum.

“The museum?” Spock observes, eyebrows raised.

“I know you said you’ve already been, but I thought it might be worth a second visit,” Kirk says, walking through the entrance.

“My visits were strictly for research purposes.” Spock gazes around the inner atrium, a rather non-impressive room of gold and white marble, his expression remaining passive. “I would enjoy observing the exhibits in a more casual manner.”

Kirk supposes that’s the closest thing he’s going to get for approval of his choice and leads his coworker through into the next room. The centerpiece is a life-size replica of a massive creature from Delta Vega. Kirk looks at it with a slight shudder; he doesn’t think he ever wants to come in contact with anything like that. Surrounding it are various displays of much smaller creatures.

Something catches Spock’s attention in the next room—more animals—and he disappears so quickly that Kirk almost has to run to catch up. The plaque tells him that this exhibit is a _sehlat._ Spock stares up at it with worrying intensity and it isn’t until Kirk glances around to see that this is the Vulcan exhibit that he figures why.

“This is a sehlat,” Spock says, his voice strangely uneven.

“It’s just a replica,” he says, his tone gentle as he points at the sign, saying just that in smaller print. “It’s not a real one.”

Spock still looks like he wants to reach out and touch the thick fur, like it’s a teddy bear instead of a particularly fierce-looking creature. “I had one, when I was a child. I-Chaya.”

“What happened? Did you have to leave him on Vulcan?”

Spock shakes his head slightly as he turns away from the display and focuses instead on a miniature replica of Vulcan architecture. “He died.”

Kirk watches as the Vulcan walks away. He lets him go, giving him a few minutes of space before he catches up with him again. “I grieve with thee,” he murmurs. Spock nods but he doesn’t respond.

It isn’t long as they pass through the exhibits that Spock sheds his solemn expression and regains his own nature once more, providing facts about the exhibits and occasionally corrections to the displays.

Kirk almost has a heart attack over a moving, life-size replica of a dinosaur from Earth’s Cretaceous period. “Is there cause for concern, Mr. Kirk?” Spock asks when he notices the man’s stricken face.

“Have you ever seen the movie _Jurassic Park_?” Kirk asks in way of an answer, backing away from the replica. The dinosaur turns its head and appears to stare directly at him.

“Is that a piece of Earth culture?” Spock asks, standing next to the fence around the dinosaur and staring at it with cool fascination. Kirk is sure that if the fence wasn’t there, the Vulcan would be up-close-and-personal with the thing’s skin.

“It’s a classic movie.” Kirk walks away and takes in the replicas of dinosaur eggs and exhibit of megalodon teeth. He’s just starting to wonder if maybe there’s a planet out there with creatures like this still living when he spots a sign that confirms that exact idea.

The final exhibit is a tour of a retired starship. Kirk considers for a moment skipping that—he’s hungry and more than ready to sit down—but then he looks at Spock and realizes that they can’t miss it. Maybe he can finally figure out why Spock is here on-planet when he could have any starship in the galaxy.

They enter in the cargo bay, massive in this ship but completely empty now. It’s almost sad.

“This ship was once a cargo vessel,” Spock observes. “Approximately twenty-three years old. The average ship today is more streamlined.” The Vulcan continues to rattle off facts like he works with ships every day rather than merely acting as an interdepartmental liaison at headquarters.

When they reach what was once a lab—tiny, there wasn’t much opportunity for research on a vessel like this—Spock falls silent for the first time. He reaches out to touch the table in the middle, resting his hand against the edge.

“You could work in a place like this,” Kirk says. “Well, not like this. This lab probably served like, what, two scientists?”

“My lab is satisfactory” is Spock’s only response. He doesn’t remove his hand until it’s time to move on. Even as they move back into the hall, Kirk can’t stop thinking about how in his element Spock looks. Practically so much so it’s like he owns the place.

When they reach the bridge, Kirk feels the same way. He looks at the captain’s chair and something like deja vu takes over, driving an inexplicable urge to sit down despite the “Do Not Touch” sign. He forces his eyes out the front, where a screen is set up to display stars.

“You could sit in that chair,” Spock says, reminding Kirk of his earlier words.

“My office is satisfactory.” He turns away and surveys the rest of the bridge. “A starship isn’t what I’m aiming for.”

Spock doesn’t refute that and ten minutes later they’re standing outside the museum. Kirk finds himself missing the cover of the stars as he looks up at the perfectly clear blue sky.

“What do you say to some dinner?” Kirk asks. He’s more than ready for something to eat and he has an idea for the perfect place. Close enough that they can walk, out of the way, excellent food, and run by a human that spent some time on Vulcan. Half of the menu is traditional Vulcan food as best as it can be done without access to all the ingredients. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before.

“That would be agreeable, Mr. Kirk.”

Kirk thinks about pointing out that they’re _still_ not in the office, he doesn’t have to be so damn formal, but in the end decides to let it go. It’s an improvement over _sir_ at least.

Their day out on the town seems to open a floodgate. It starts as ordering pizza during another late night at work alone. Talking about Spock’s experiments—he thinks he might be on the verge of a major breakthrough with the star thing—and filing paperwork.

Then burgers at the little place down the street the next day. It’s 0 to 60 from Spock refusing all dinner invitations to dinner together every night. Kirk has spent so much time thinking about dating Spock that it takes him a week to realize that he actually _is_ dating Spock. If Spock doesn’t find it strange then Kirk isn’t going to point out that coworkers don’t generally spend this much time outside of work together.

Once Kirk notices it, he can’t stop. He second-guesses every move after that—when Spock calls him down to his office to see a new plant from a distant galaxy that Kirk can’t pronounce, when Spock pays for the pizza because Kirk doesn’t have the cash on him, when Spock finishes paperwork that was technically Kirk’s job to allow them both a couple free hours to wander down to some of the historic buildings only a few blocks away.

It only makes Kirk want to ask him on a real date even more. Starfleet regulations aside, his and Spock’s friendship is a good one, maybe the best he’d ever had next to Bones. He doesn’t want to mess that up with a failed relationship—or worse, an unrequited one.

“Sir,” Spock’s voice echoes across Kirk’s office. He yanks away from his thoughts and brings his head up from where it was resting on his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asks, suppressing the urge to add a sigh in punctuation.

“There is a conference in San Jose this weekend,” Spock says, stepping across the threshold and into the room. “I recognize that it is short notice but—” _I thought you might like to come with me talk about science explore the city in our downtime share the only bed in our hotel room_ “—I have been informed that there is a researcher giving a presentation on the composition of stars in the Milky Way Galaxy. I request that I be permitted to attend.”

“Yes.” Kirk shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it. “Of course, Spock. You deserve a weekend off.”

“Dr. Rounsavall’s research is similar to my own, sir. It is not a _weekend off,_ as you say.” Spock doesn’t look affronted. Merely straightforward.

Kirk lets out a sigh. “Enjoy yourself, Mr. Spock. Even if it is just research.”

“Thank you, sir.” Spock inclines his head and disappears back through the door. Kirk drops his head back down onto his desk.

Spock is only gone for a couple of days, but it only takes a few hours for Kirk to realize how accustomed to the Vulcan’s presence he’s grown. Work seems like drudgery alone in the office. He throws together dinner from a few odds-and-ends in his kitchen and eats alone in front of the television.

It’s what he’s done for the last few years and yet there’s something strange about it. Kirk sighs and his head thumps against the back of the couch. He’s being ridiculous. Spock is nothing more than his friend and coworker.

He can’t help but wonder how long he’ll have to lie to himself before he really believes it.

While most people would use a weekend conference as an excuse to come in late because of “jet lag” or “a delayed flight” Spock is, of course, in the office even before Kirk arrives on Monday morning. Kirk tries to ignore the way all the tension flows out of him at the sight of him, like he’d half-expected his coworker to meet some brilliant scientist at the conference and realize he’s meant for more than just a dumb desk job.

“How was your weekend?” Kirk asks, pausing at the open door of Spock’s office.

“Fascinating,” Spock replies, tapping a stack of papers against his desk. “I have a lot to consider regarding my own experiments.”

Kirk can’t resist asking, “So you had fun?”

Spock pauses, considering the question with a blank expression. “I did enjoy myself, Mr. Kirk.”

“Good.” Kirk grins. “Dinner’s on me tonight. You can tell me all about it.”

For a moment, Kirk’s anxious that Spock might say no to the continuation of their tradition but instead he nods slightly and says, “I shall.”

Unfortunately, five minutes before Kirk’s about ready to pack it in, Marcus barges into his office. His face is bright red and he’s waving his pad around. It takes Kirk a few minutes to decipher his words before he realizes that his appointment schedule for the next week has been mixed up.

“Yes, sir,” Kirk says, cutting off Marcus’s tirade with what he hopes isn’t a tired-sounding phrase. “I’ll fix it tonight.”

“You better. I’ll send you my calendar.” Marcus storms back out the door. Kirk stares after him for a few moments before picking his pad up off his desk. Sure enough, there’s a message from Marcus waiting for him. When Spock shows up a few minutes later, his eyebrows quirked with confusion, Kirk holds it up.

“Marcus needs me to fix his meeting schedule.” Kirk’s heart sinks all over again. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to take a rain check.”

“A rain check, sir?”

“Reschedule. I’m going to have to stay late and deal with this.” Kirk leans back in his chair and stretches his arms over his head.

“Would you like me to stay?” Spock moves like he’s going to take the chair on the other side of the desk, but Kirk waves a hand to stop him.

“You had a long weekend,” Kirk points out. “It’s just sending emails and rearranging calls. You should get some rest.”

“My sleep over the past few days has been adequate,” Spock returns. “I do not require additional rest.”

“Mr. Spock.” Kirk lets out a slow sigh. “Go home and read up for your experiments.”

Spock opens his mouth, looking oddly grateful. Nothing comes out for a few second and then he says, “I believe I will do so.”

“Good night, Mr. Spock.”

“Good night, sir.”

Once Spock is gone, Kirk settles down behind his desk and starts flipping through the calendar. Just glancing at it he can tell that there are at least three meetings scheduled at the same time and multiple more scheduled at odd hours—Marcus isn’t going to take a call at four in the morning on a Saturday, seriously. Even if it is from London. Kirk gives himself a few seconds of banging his head against the desk before he sits back up and pulls out his legal pad to get to work.

Kirk spends the next day braced for another untimely interruption from Marcus, but fortunately five in the afternoon rolls around without a single sign of the man. Kirk bolts from his office before his good luck can run out and heads down to meet Spock.

“Dinner?” he asks, peeking around the frame of the door.

Spock stows away a pair of files in the cabinet and straightens up. “I am hungry,” he admits.

“Awesome. I believe that I owe you one.”

Kirk takes him down the street to the Vulcan-Earth fusion restaurant. He’s pretty sure it’s Spock’s favorite, though the Vulcan has yet to express an actual opinion on his choices in dining.

Over their food, Spock talks about the conference and all the ideas he has for new experiments. Once again, Kirk is struck by a wave of “Why do you work for me?” He doesn’t realize that he’s said the words out loud until Spock stutters to a halt in the middle of a sentence.

“I am not under your employment,” Spock says. “I am a liaison appointed by Admiral Marcus.”

Now that the question is out, Kirk is desperate for a real answer. He waves a hand and says, “Semantics. You could be, I don’t know, a scientist in a world-class research facility or an officer on a starship instead of working some meaningless desk job.”

Spock stops eating and steeples his fingers in front of his chest. Kirk wonders if that’s as close as a Vulcan can get to a nervous tic. “I do not believe my job to be meaningless.”

“Spock just last week you spent an entire day combing through reports from the engineering department because Marcus was convinced the photon cannons are currently under upgrade even though they insist that the project is on hold pending funding.” Kirk drops his fork with a loud clang, his hands shaking with frustration at the reminder of all that wasted time just to satisfy their boss’s delusions.

“Marcus offered me the position of liaison and I accepted,” Spock says carefully, like he’s choosing his words with even more precision than he does all the time. “It seemed the logical next step in my career, as it allowed me a position in Starfleet Headquarters along with the chance to continue conducting research.”

“I understand,” Kirk says, even though he’s not sure he does. Two months ago he probably would have agreed but now the idea of someone with Spock’s potential languishing under his watch is frustrating to say the least. “What were you saying about the burning point of helium?”

Spock pauses for a moment and then continues right where he left off. Kirk longs to ask more questions but he recognizes the brush off for what it is: a diplomatic answer to a question that’s none of his business.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ve really never seen _Stargate SG-1_?” Kirk asks. He knew that it was a long-shot when he made the reference, but he still considers it a classic staple where Starfleet is concerned.

“Stargate, sir?” Spock doesn’t look up from where he’s shuffling through paperwork on the other side of Kirk’s desk. Marcus had ordered them to compile reports into a brief that he could give to the Starfleet brass. It isn’t difficult work but it is tedious.

“TV show. Began airing at the close of the twentieth century? About a team of explorers that save the galaxy from a number of alien threats including these really creepy parasite guys worshiped on Earth as Egyptian gods.”

“I am not familiar with this, sir,” Spock says, typing some notes onto his pad one-handed. “Is it required viewing on this planet?”

Kirk’s eyebrows scrunch down at the thought. “Well, no, but it’s a great show.”

“I shall have to take your word for it.”

“Or…” Kirk trails off, setting down the file in his hands, until Spock looks up. “You could come over tonight and we could watch a few episodes.”

“I do believe our first priority is this briefing.” Spock underlines a couple sentences and Kirk tries not to stare at the way his long fingers wrap around the pen.

“Of course. But after we finish.”

Spock pauses for so long that Kirk starts to wonder if he’s never going to answer. “I believe that would be agreeable.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.” Kirk sets himself to work with new intensity. The sooner they get this over with, the sooner he can get Spock into his bed—his room—his, oh never mind.

It takes another hour to hammer out an acceptable briefing. By the time they’re done, Kirk is more than ready to just go home. He proposes pizza and insists when Spock replies that he’s never had it. Kirk orders while Spock hails a cab and the delivery boy comes up the elevator as Kirk is unlocking the door. He waves off Spock’s offer to pay for half.

Within twenty minutes, they’re camped out in front of the TV, plates on their laps, the box on the coffee table, and _Stargate SG-1_ playing on the TV. It’s late by the time the episode ends. “What do you think?” Kirk asks, gathering up their plates and the empty pizza box.

“Fascinating,” Spock replies, his eyes thoughtful like he’s still mulling it all over in his mind. He follows Kirk into the kitchen and starts rambling away about the logicality of wormhole-based gate travel.

“I’m glad it turned out not to be _entirely_ illogical,” Kirk says, during a pause. He plugs the sink and starts the water running to wash their dishes. Spock steps up next to him and takes the dishcloth to dry. Kirk opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t have to do that but he stops. It’s kind of nice having someone to help, like this is Spock’s place too. Like they’re already living together.

Kirk should really say that he doesn’t need help.

When the dishes are done, Kirk dries off his hands on the cloth and turns toward Spock. He expects him to move away now that close quarters are no longer necessary but he doesn’t.

Spock holds still, so close that Kirk can’t feel his body heat. Before he can think twice, he’s leaning in. Pressing his lips to Spock’s.

Spock answers the kiss with the lightest of touches. He can’t believe this is really happening. Not only is he kissing Spock but he’s being kissed back. Kirk reaches out, resting a hand against the Vulcan’s arm. The moment shatters. Spock pulls away hard, his eyes wide and a slight green flush on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk says, taking in his stricken face. “I thought…”

Spock doesn’t wait for him to finish. He takes a step back. Then another. Says, “I must go” and disappears as quickly as he can without actually running.

The door clicks shut. “God damn it,” Kirk murmurs, smacking his forehead against the cabinet.

It’s the longest weekend of Kirk’s life. He spends the mornings in the gym, trying desperately not to think as music pounds in his ears and the miles race by on the treadmill. He thinks about going out in the afternoons, but never manages to make a decision on a place. The only logical option in that case is to end up on his couch, continuing the Stargate marathon that he’d started with Spock. It isn’t the best thought when Spock is exactly what he’s trying to _forget._

Monday dawns after a sleepless night. Kirk brews himself two cups of coffee into a thermos and heads in to the office. Spock is, of course, already there.

“Good morning, sir,” Spock says as Kirk walks by. Like they haven’t gone two days without speaking. Like it’s any normal Monday morning. Like Spock didn’t run out on Kirk after they kissed.

“Good morning, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says back, hoping he sounds calm, and pauses at Spock’s doorway. “Has Marcus given me any orders for the day?”

“Not as yet,” Spock replies, not looking up from his desk.

Kirk waits for a second longer and then takes the hint, heading down to his own office and shutting the door behind him for the first time in weeks. He likes having his door open, even if it does mean that it’s easier for Marcus to barge into his office. Likes being able to see people go by. Likes the dull hum of chatter from the rest of the office wafting through the door.

He takes care of the filing left over from the weekend. Checks his email. Sends off a few reports. Schedules a conference call with the D.C. office. Makes some calls. Orders a sandwich delivered to his office so he doesn’t have to go out (if it’s because he doesn’t want to pass Spock’s office again, then he’s going to pretend that it’s so he can get more work done).

There are only a few hours left before he can go home but by mid-afternoon Kirk feels like he’s ready to explode. He’s never been so bored at work before. He doesn’t know how he survived before Spock started working for him, but it wasn’t well.

At five he finally puts away the last of his work and knocks off. As Kirk passes by Spock’s office, he catches sight of the Vulcan still sitting behind his desk, typing away rapidly on his pad.

Kirk stops in the middle of the hallway and stares inside for a moment. Then, before he can consider why this is _not a good idea,_ he marches into Spock’s office.

“I do not yet have the reports due to you tomorrow, sir,” Spock says, glancing up quickly before returning to his work.

Anger, hot and indiscriminate, blazes in Kirk’s stomach. “Is that it then?”

“I do not understand.” Spock looks up again, holding Kirk’s gaze with a cool look. He doesn’t appear in the least bit ruffled.

“You don’t want to kiss me so everything’s over between us? Just like that? Do you really care so little?” Once the words start to roll out, it’s desperately hard to stop them. “I understand if you just want to be friends, I do. But I really like you, Spock. I thought we had something and then when you were in my kitchen I thought you wanted more too. Hell, you kissed me _back._ So why aren’t you talking to me? Why are you acting like you just started working here?”

Spock’s eyes widen just the tiniest amount. He holds up a hand to stop the tirade but doesn’t say anything. His jaw works like he’s trying to find the correct words. “My desires have no relation to my decision to leave your residence.”

Kirk paces in a driving path in front of the desk. “What does that mean?”

“We are coworkers.”

Kirk pauses in his pacing, bites down the urge to point out that _of course they’re coworkers._ “So?”

“It is against Starfleet Regulation 1254.7 for coworkers to enter any kind of romantic relationship.” Spock’s voice is so flat it sounds like the mechanical voice on a pad reading out the Starfleet manual.

Kirk rests his palms against the desk and leans heavily on them. “I don’t care.”

“Both of our jobs could be at stake. More than a friendship is not worth risking both of our careers.”

Anger burns through Kirk’s veins again, though what exactly it’s directed at he isn’t sure. “Fuck these jobs, Spock. We could do so better than Marcus, than here.”

“We may never have that chance.” Spock holds his gaze steadily and all the fight goes out of Kirk. He drops into the chair on the other side of the desk with an anguished sigh. He might not care that much about his job but he would never risk Spock’s.

“Fine,” Kirk concedes. “Can we just pretend that didn’t happen? Go back to being friends?” If that’s all he can have with Spock, well then it’s better than nothing.

“If you wish.”

Kirk doesn’t try to press harder. “Would you like some help with my reports?”

Spock glances over the stacks of papers spread across his desk and then pushes half of them over to him. “That would be appreciated.”

After a while—Kirk isn’t quite sure exactly when it happens—the tension between them melts away and it’s just like before the kiss. Spock talks about the progress made on his experiments over the weekend and Kirk avoids any questions about his own past couple of days.

It’s well after eleven by the time they’ve finished up. They head out together, just like usual, before coming to a stop on the pavement. This is usually where Kirk would suggest dinner, Spock would agree, and they’d hail a cab.

Kirk’s mind is still racing for the right thing to say when Spock says, “I will see you tomorrow, sir,” and starts walking down the street.

“Yeah, Spock,” Kirk murmurs to himself. “See you tomorrow.”

At home, Kirk digs through his bookshelves until he finds his copy of the Starfleet manual. The cover is crisp and clean, the pages still stuck together. He’s pretty sure he’s never actually opened it.

Kirk drops down on the couch and flips through the pages. There are hundreds of them and Kirk tries not to think about how this is only the manual for on-planet operations. There’s a whole other one for the Academy and at least three for active duty on starships.

Subject lines flash by in front of his eyes. _Command, Communications, Engineering, Science, Proper Use of Office Materials, Hiring Procedures, Transfer Procedures, Firing Procedures, Interdepartmental Cooperation…_ Hundreds of regulations with subsections and exceptions and revisions. He doubts there’s anything simple like “What to do when you really want to bang your hot Vulcan assistant and coworker.”

What had Spock said? Regulation one thousand…what?

Regulation 1254.7.

Kirk races through the pages until he finds the one he needs. _Employees shall not be permitted to begin a romantic or sexual relationship with another employee of the same department, especially in situations in which one employee is in a position of power over the other._

Spock was right. Of course he was, nobody knows the book better that he does. Kirk tosses it aside, his stomach rolling, and then lunges to pick it up again. He reads the paragraph once. Twice. Over and over again until the words seem to lose their meaning.

_Of the same department._

It probably wasn’t a big enough loophole to satisfy Marcus—or any of the higher-ups in Starfleet—but maybe it would be enough for Spock. At least until they can figure out a more permanent solution. Now he just needs to figure out how to bring it up.

It kills Kirk inside to look at Spock all day and not be able to say what he wants to. Instead he keeps his mouth shut and talk away from any potential relationship or Starfleet regulations he would very much like to flout.

Kirk waits until they leave the building, mercifully on time for once, and then asks Spock if he’d like to come back to his place for dinner. The Vulcan hesitates but accepts. Kirk likes to think that means he wants this as much as he does. That maybe his idea _will_ be enough.

Once they’re set up on the couch, a pair of Chinese cartons between them, Kirk pounces. He pulls out the Starfleet manual, the offending paragraph highlighted in bright green.

“I am well aware of the regulations regarding dating,” Spock says with hardly a glance at the book. “As I informed you previously.”

“I know, Spock, I got that.” Kirk points at where he’s underlined _of the same department._ “We don’t work for the same department. Not technically.”

“I work in command, underneath you and Admiral Marcus.”

Kirk sighs, smacking his palm against his forehead. “Your title is Command-Science Liaison. _Science Department_ , Spock. I work in Command.”

“I am not sure that logic would hold firm underneath scrutiny.” Spock pins a mushroom between his chopsticks and pops it into his mouth.

Kirk shrugs and tosses the Starfleet manual aside, watching as it bounces underneath his coffee table. He’s not sure why he can’t just let this go, but he knows that he wants more from Spock than just friendship. Maybe more than he’s ever wanted from anyone, as scary as that thought might be. “Maybe not,” Kirk says in a tone that clearly says he doesn’t care.

Kirk stares at a tiny hole unraveling in the cushion of his couch. He doesn’t hear Spock move but suddenly he has a lapful of Vulcan. Spock is awkward, his bones pressing into Kirk, but when he hesitates to stare into his eyes it doesn’t matter. Kirk holds his breath and even though every instinct is screaming at him to close the distance, he waits.

One second. Two. Three. Spock would know the exact number down to the millisecond.

Spock bridges the gap, brushing his lips over Kirk’s. It’s soft, hesitant, but only for a moment before he crosses the line into hard and desperate. Spock kisses like he needs it to breathe, like he’ll never have enough, like the past few days have been just as torturous for him as they have been for Kirk.

Kirk answers back in kind, slipping a hand around the back of the Vulcan’s neck to hold him in place. Time passes around them until it feels like they’ve been kissing for hours. Maybe they have. The sun can’t hit them through the window where they’re sitting. They could both miss work and they probably wouldn’t notice. Well, maybe Spock would notice.

Kirk breaks out of the kiss and leans his forehead against Spock’s. “What time is it?” he asks.

Spock’s brow furrows. “Eight twenty-three, sir,” he answers. Have they really only been kissing for about half an hour?

“Spock.” Kirk brushes his fingertips over the shell of one pointy ear and Spock shivers. “I think we’ve gone way past _sir._ ”

Spock’s smile is tiny, although on him it’s practically a grin. “Kirk.”

It’s well after one by the time Kirk finally calls him a cab. He wants nothing more than to ask him to stay instead but it’s pretty clear that Spock is new to the whole Earth dating thing and he doesn’t want to scare him away. Not again.

So before he leaves, Kirk pushes Spock up against the door and kisses him thoroughly, one more time. Spock finally pulls away, his cheeks flushed with green. “The cab is waiting,” he points out.

“Let them wait.” Kirk kisses him again, much shorter this time, and then slides his hands off Spock’s waist. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Spock nods, opens the door, and then he’s gone.

The hours until daylight pass slowly. Kirk’s never wanted so badly to go to work in his life. Finally his alarm buzzes, the automated voice telling him that “ _if you don’t get your ass out of bed in the next five minutes, you won’t make it to work on time.”_

Kirk doesn’t even wait five seconds before he’s throwing aside the covers and climbing out. He rushes through his routine, slathering a bagel with cream cheese so he can eat on the cab ride in. Even arriving twenty minutes early, Spock has already beat him there.

“Be honest,” Kirk says, peeking through the doorway to Spock’s office, “did you even go home last night or did you just come straight here?”

“I went to my apartment to rest,” Spock says matter-of-factly. “I achieved the minimal four point six hours of sleep and arrived here on time.”

Kirk resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Some of us require more than four hours of sleep.”

“Four point six.”

Kirk rolls his eyes. “Do you have anything I need to deal with?”

“I do not believe so. You already have the reports from last night.” Spock taps a few buttons on his pad and then shuffles files on his desk, looking for anything that needs to be passed on. He comes up empty. “Admiral Marcus will be in a meeting until nine and then he wants to speak with you.”

“Of course he does.” Kirk slaps his hand against the door frame. “Thanks, Mr. Spock.”

Spock doesn’t reply and Kirk heads down to his own office. He takes advantage of the relative quiet of Marcus’s absence to get some work done. The accounting office wants him to look over their budget for the office. Kirk knows that it’s probably not enough to satisfy Marcus but it’s definitely enough to satisfy him so he signs off on it anyway. Then there’s memos to look over, a proposal for new space navigational equipment, a notice from the medical department about disease epidemic risk on starships. w

None of it requires much concentration, allowing plenty of space in his mind to think about Spock.

It’s enough of a distraction that he almost forgets about his meeting with Marcus until the man in question barges inside.

“Admiral Marcus,” Kirk says in the most polite voice that he can manage. “What can I do for you?”

Marcus sets off on a rant while Kirk half-listens, wishing it were Spock standing in front of him instead. From what he manages to piece together, the Orlando office is having management problems. Although Kirk still doesn’t know what that has to do with him: He doesn’t have any experience with other offices, rarely travels, and he can name a dozen people more qualified to handle reorganization than himself.

Even so Marcus ends with, “I want you to go down there and fix things.”

Kirk stares blankly at him. “Isn’t there anyone in Orlando that can handle it?”

“No.” Marcus stares him down like he expects that to be all.

“What about Sheila?”

“She’s in Tokyo for a couple of weeks, getting their newest office off the ground.”

“Gene?”

Marcus looks dangerously close to an explosion point. “He’s on vacation in El Paso.”

“I can’t just leave all my work.”

“It’s just for a couple of weeks. Get a feel for how the office works, fire anyone you need to, hire anyone you want.” Marcus waves a hand at his desk. “Spock can handle all of this.”

Kirk bites his tongue from pointing out that none of this is Spock’s responsibility. Once he would have welcomed the opportunity to get a thousand miles away from Marcus, but not when it means he has to leave Spock too. “When do I leave?”

Marcus tosses a plane ticket onto his desk and leaves. Kirk has to read the date several times and double- and triple-check with the calendar before he believes it.

Today. He’s leaving today. In eight hours.

Kirk allows himself a bare few seconds to smash his fist into his desk before he rushes out the door.

His first stop is Spock’s office. He kicks the door shut behind him, catching it before it can slam and draw attention. “Marcus wants me to go to Orlando and handle the office there for a couple weeks,” Kirk says, his voice tight. “My flight leaves this afternoon.”

Spock starts to stand up, reaching for his jacket.

“Just me.” Kirk lets out a long sigh. “He wants you to stay here and handle everything while I’m gone.”

“I am quite capable of handling your workload in addition to my own.”

“I know you are.” Kirk wants to get closer, wants to fall into Spock’s lap, but he stays where he is next to the door. This will be easier that way. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Spock’s expression is unreadable. “Goodbye, sir.”

“And to give you this.” Kirk steps over to the desk, scrawls the number for his office cell on a post-it. “I’m going to miss you.”

“A sense of loss for someone who is only temporarily absent is illogical,” Spock says, his voice soft as he takes the slip of paper and tucks it away. “However, I do believe I shall miss you too.”

Kirk smiles and takes a step back before he can give in to the temptation to climb over the desk. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” The knob on the door is cold against his hand as he pulls it back open and steps out. Rage and frustration well inside him for a moment and he turns away from the door, afraid that Spock will be able to see it.

From there Kirk goes back to his office and organizes things to make finding them easier on Spock. Sure, it’s all organized but the system is set more to his own needs than that of a meticulous Vulcan. Once that’s done and he’s gathered together everything he’ll need to take to Orlando, Kirk sets out again.

He stops by Spock’s office—hoping to say goodbye one more time—but he’s not there. The scrawl of text on his office door says that he’s gone down to tend to his experiments. Kirk considers leaving a message but anything that he would want to say might be considered overly incriminating. He passes the door by and heads down the elevator.

Packing is over almost too quickly and then he’s catching a cab to the airport. Security is miserable, as always, but once he’s through to the terminal he heads straight to fast food for dinner. He glances at his phone as he bites into a burger, wishing that Spock was sitting in the chair across from him.

Two weeks. Maybe less, if he can get this over quickly.

Kirk polishes off the rest of his burger and grabs his carry-on. His gate is already milling with people, even though there’s about another hour before anyone will be allowed to board. Kirk settles down with his pad, ready to kill time as best he can.

The flight is quiet. Kirk arranges himself in his seat and sleeps, only waking once they touch down in Orlando. It’s still dark outside but probably not for long. It might only be two in the morning back home, but it’s five here. Kirk catches a cab to his hotel, fighting to stay awake in the backseat. Once he arrives at his room, he drops unceremoniously into the bed without bothering to change clothes.

Kirk’s phone goes off at seven. He silences it, setting the alarm for two more hours of sleep. He doesn’t feel much better when it goes off for the second time, but after a shower and a couple cups of coffee he feels ready to rejoin the living.

Starfleet’s Orlando office sits on the water, the entire building encased in glass. The receptionist at the front desk recognizes Kirk immediately and sends him up to the manager.

“Admiral Pike,” the man says, holding out his hand as Kirk steps into his office.

“Mr. Kirk.” He sits down on the other side of the desk. “I wasn’t aware a new supervisor had already been appointed.”

Pike waves him off. “I’m just temporary. The USS Tango has been docked for restocking and a few repairs. I was asked to keep an eye on things here until you arrived.”

“What’s the situation?”

Kirk listens as intently as Pike walks him through what he can. Even though he’s only been supervising a few days, Pike has a lot of insight into the problems of the office. They’ve been talking for an hour by the time Kirk wants to just drop his head against the desk. It’s clear that the office is a mess and it’s not going to be a quick fix. Not a simple matter of hiring the right manager and letting them sort things out.

“Thank you, Admiral,” Kirk says, when the meeting finishes after three hours.

“Best of luck, son,” Pike says, reaching across the desk to shake his hand. “I’ll be in town for a couple more days, if you need any help.”

“I will let you know.” Pike says his goodbyes and heads out of the office. Kirk gets to his feet, stiff after sitting for so long, and slides into Pike’s now vacant chair. Paperwork and files and memos spread across the desk, with even more waiting to be downloaded on his pad.

Kirk shakes his head and leaves it all behind. Files are all fine, but he’d prefer to meet everyone that he’s going to have to manage in person. The office is relatively silent—many people out to lunch—so he decides to join them. There’s a sandwich shop around the corner where he grabs a roast beef sub and brings it back to the office. Once the place is bustling again, he throws himself into the fray.

By the end of the day, he feels like he’s met half of Orlando. He’s said his name so many times it seems to have lost all meaning. The names and faces blur together in his mind, making his head ache. Still, Kirk feels like he has a pretty good idea what needs to be done to get this place into shape, if not a plan on how to do it.

The next three days pass in a whirlwind until he finds himself sitting behind a desk, poring over his pad as he battles to phrase guidelines for interdepartmental communication. It’s clear that half of this office’s problems stem from a complete lack of it.

There’s a sharp knock on the door and Kirk’s head jerks up, half expecting to see Spock standing there. Instead, it’s Pike, dressed simply in civilian clothes.

“The Tango ships out in the morning,” Pike says. “I thought you might like to join me for dinner.”

Kirk glances down at his pad, wrinkles his nose, and pushes it out of the way. Files crash to the floor. He ignores them. “I would love to.”

They end up at an outdoor restaurant right on the beach that Pike insists he goes to every time he’s in on leave. Kirk orders a salmon steak and surreptitiously watches Pike out of the corner of his eye. There must be some reason why the man would ask to spend his last night on Earth with Kirk, he just can’t figure out how to ask what it is.

“Tell me about yourself, Kirk,” Pike says, once they’ve ordered.

Kirk startles, feeling oddly like he’s on a job interview. He talks about his job back in San Francisco, about growing up on a farm in Iowa, about how he came to work for Starfleet. Pike mentions that he wrote his dissertation on his father and the Kelvin. Kirk feels relieved when he doesn’t press further and turns the conversation to easier topics: his preference for California, mostly because of the surfing.

Desperate to bring the conversation away from himself, Kirk asks about the Tango once Pike’s questions come to a lull. The man talks about space with a new light in his eyes, about the planets he’s visited and his crew. Kirk’s heart stirs in a way that it hasn’t before, just listening. He finds that he doesn’t feel any less like he’s on an interview; the whole thing is quite like getting pitched.

“Have you ever wanted to join a starship crew?” Pike asks, a curious look in his eyes. Most people would bring up his father at this point, but Pike doesn’t.

“Sure.” Kirk shrugs, polishing off the last of his steak. “I think everyone has, at one time or another. Space: the final frontier, and all that.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Wasn’t in the cards.” Kirk thinks about his safe and comfortable office back in San Francisco, about Spock, about working for Marcus. About his father dying in space, about his mother chasing ships and planets for his entire childhood, desperate to feel some connection to the man she’d lost. Kirk doesn’t want to feel like that.

Pike lets it go, until they’re standing up to leave. Then he slips a card in Kirk’s hand and says, “If you ever change your mind, here’s how to contact me.”

Kirk glances down at the card and tucks it in his pocket. There’s no harm, he can always throw it away later. “Thanks.”

“Best of luck with this place.” Pike claps a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never seen Stargate SG-1 you should. Also its spin-off, Stargate Atlantis. Both are fantastic and I like to think Kirk would appreciate them. Regulation 1254.7 is a reference to Gibbs's Rule 12: "Never date a coworker" from NCIS. My original draft of this had Pike captain of the USS Kelvin but when I decided to stick with AOS canon in that regard, I needed to find him another ship. The USS Tango is not a real starship, but it is named for Pike's horse.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirk wishes that Pike had been exaggerating. The office rebels against the new communication guidelines, insisting that everything is just fine between them. Kirk wonders if this is anything like being a couples counselor.

In the evenings, Kirk curls up in his hotel bed, pad in his lap and phone within easy reach. He’s only half paying attention to the vast amount of files on his pad, listening instead for the telltale chime of a call that doesn’t come. He’s been in Orlando for six days by the time he breaks down and calls Spock instead.

“Spock here,” he answers.

Kirk’s heart skips a beat and he has to mentally shake himself. “It’s Kirk.”

“Mr. Kirk.” There’s a loud sound of shuffling papers on the other end of the line. “Is Orlando agreeable?”

“It’s not San Francisco.” Kirk sighs, setting his pad aside. More shuffling of papers. He glances at the clock beside his bed. “Spock…are you still at the office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s eight at night.” Kirk’s heart burns, picturing Spock sitting alone in the dim lighting of an empty building, working late by himself. They’ve certainly had later nights but at least then neither of them was alone.

“Eight oh six,” Spock says. A soft slam that sounds like a file cabinet. His file cabinet.

“Are you in my office?”

“Yes, sir.” Spock pauses. A resounding crash of falling papers. “Your office is disorganized.”

“I know that. It’s my office.” Kirk stutters to a stop. “You’re staying late to organize _my_ office?”

“I am merely attempting to make your work more efficient.”

Kirk waits until the shuffling of papers has quieted down. “You don’t have to do that. Go home. I can handle my office when I get back.”

“It is no inconvenience to me. Did you contact me to discuss my work time?”

Kirk sighs and lets it go. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss the reorganization of his office when he gets back. Whenever that is. As much as he just wants to hear Spock’s voice, he did call with a legitimate excuse in mind. “I need some advice on dealing with the science department here,” he says and then, after Spock makes a thoughtful noise, goes on to outline the issues. There have been accusations of scientists fabricating data, among other things, and Kirk is at a loss on how to deal with it all.

Spock launches immediately into a long list of suggestions. It takes a few minutes for Kirk to realize that the background noise has fallen silent. He takes hopefully coherent notes on his pad while a part of his brain tries to picture Spock in his office. Has he moved to Kirk’s chair? His desk? Or is he just sitting on the floor?

It’s nearly an hour before they finally wrap up. Kirk lets himself slip, just a little, and says, “I miss you, Spock.”

The silence stretches out for an uncomfortable moment. “I find your lack of presence discomfiting as well.”

Kirk resists the urge to laugh, he fist clenching around the rough fabric of the comforter. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night.” Kirk hangs up and tosses away his phone. He sighs as he looks down at his pad, the rapidly typed words mostly gibberish. That’ll have to wait until morning. He puts the pad aside and turns out the light, curling up with Spock’s voice still fading in his ears.

After he manages to decipher his notes, Kirk dedicates the next few days entirely to dealing with the science department. He fires the ones responsible for the fabricated data and disciplines the rest. Of course then there are reports to be filed on all ongoing projects and active grants, information about previous projects to be archived, and a new hiring manager to be found. Kirk appoints one of the senior science officers to the head of department and prays that they’ll be in good hands.

After that it’s just a few more days to wrap things up. With hiring managers appointed and everything organized, it’s time to go home.

When Kirk steps back into the Orlando airport, he’s never been happier to get on a flight. Normally Kirk would have preferred to come home on a Friday, give himself a couple of days to settle back in before he’d have to go back to work. This time, though, he’s glad that he’s flying in on Sunday. He’ll take the evening to relax, recover from jet lag, and then in the morning he can see Spock.

Kirk feels like death when he rolls out of bed at the sound of his alarm. It takes half a pot of coffee and several thoughts of Spock before he feels somewhat human again. He goes down to his own office first, dropping off his stuff and poking around to see what changes have been made in his absence. Nothing seems too out of place, all the files and folders that normally clutter his desk have been put away and his file cabinets look at first glance to be organized to be more intuitive.

Satisfied, Kirk heads back out of his office and down the hall.

“Mr. Kirk.” Spock pushes away from his desk and stands up, a slight green tinge to his cheeks that isn’t normally there. Kirk’s stomach flips at the idea that Spock is _blushing_ of all things. “Matters in Orlando are satisfactory?”

Kirk shrugs, resisting the urge to lean against the back of the chair on the other side of Spock’s desk. His knees don’t seem to want to hold him up any longer. “Better than when I arrived. How were things here?”

“Quiet, in your absence.” Kirk doesn’t know if Spock looks regretful or disappointed at that comment. They talk shop for a few minutes, Spock telling him about everything he’s missed around the office, Kirk finally succumbing to exhaustion and settling into the chair. Then silence falls and Spock asks, “Would you like to accompany me to dinner tonight?”

Kirk smiles as he replies, “I’d like that.” He looks across the desk and is struck by a sudden wave of affection for the Vulcan. The words slip out before he can stop them. “I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

Spock’s cheeks, having returned to their normal color over the course of their conversation, tint green again. They stare at each other until Kirk can’t take it anymore. He jumps to his feet and mutters, “I should get back to work.”

“Wait,” Spock says, the single word soft in his mouth. He steps around the desk, stopping close enough to stand on the line between “professional” and “more.”

Kirk doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just lets Spock get situated in his personal space. Kirk is practically trembling with the need to touch him, to kiss him, anything. He’s never hated Starfleet regulations more in his life.

“Hold your fingers out like this,” Spock instructs, holding up his hand with the first two fingers extended.

Kirk obeys, feeling stupid and unable to shake the worry that someone—Marcus—might burst through the door and interrupt them. His worries are forgotten when Spock’s fingers slip up and down his and they both shiver in unison at the contact. “What was that?” Kirk asks, when Spock pulls away again.

“That is how Vulcans kiss,” Spock replies with the same hesitant tone he always uses when talking about Vulcans, like he’s afraid he might be struck down for sharing state secrets. “It is simple enough that anyone without intimate knowledge of Vulcan customs will think otherwise of it.”

Kirk feels bowled over by affection again, but he knows that it’ll have to wait. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he says.

Spock nods and moves to head back to his desk. Kirk pauses for a moment before opening the door and stepping out.

The hours stretch out slowly for Kirk in the confines of his office. Marcus shows up just after lunch, congratulating him on a job well done in Orlando before handing him a drive overloaded with work he’s missed. Kirk feels like he’s barely scratched the surface by the time he can knock off and see if Spock is ready to leave.

There’s a new seafood-themed restaurant down the street and on the roof of a hotel that Spock agrees to try. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit in the shade?” Kirk asks, reaching for the umbrella over their table while Spock situates himself in the sun.

“Vulcan is a desert planet,” Spock reminds him. “I am well accustomed to the sun.”

“Right.” Kirk shakes his head slightly, scolding himself for not thinking of that in the first place. He moves his chair closer to Spock, justifying that it will keep the sun at their backs and out of his eyes.

After they order, Spock asks about the status of Orlando’s science department. Kirk tells him about the promotions, the people they hired, and what little he knows about their current projects. Then he lets out a long sigh. “Can we talk about something that isn’t work? What else did you do while I was gone?”

Spock stares blankly back at him, one eyebrow raised.

“You did actually _leave_ the office, right?”

“I returned to my apartment at night.” Spock sounds oddly proud of himself for not sleeping at the office and Kirk wonders how often he did that back in his old job.

“Sometimes I worry that if I wasn’t your boyfriend, you’d never get out in the world,” Kirk says without thinking and then his blood runs cold.

“Boyfriend.” Spock sounds like he’s rolling the word on his tongue, trying to see how it feels. Otherwise, his expression doesn’t change.

Kirk licks his lips. “That’s…what we are, aren’t we?”

“It is a cumbersome Earth colloquialism.” Spock takes a long breath. “But I cannot say it is entirely without accuracy.”

Kirk smiles as he sighs with relief. “What would we be on Vulcan?”

Spock seems to consider the question for so long that their food has arrived before he speaks again. Kirk waits, recognizing the slight wrinkle between his eyes. “The Vulcan language does contain similar words but none that would be an exact translation. Our marriage bonds are not primarily ones of choice, like yours. We become betrothed at childhood and there is little courtship that takes place. Exceptions are made but it is not a common occurrence.”

Kirk pretends to be overly dedicated to the act of dipping a piece of lobster into butter as he mulls that over. “What about you? Are you betrothed?”

“I was.” The two words come out sounding oddly strained. “She bonded with another. A Vulcan.”

“Ah.” Kirk can recognize a touchy subject when he hears one. As curious as he is about this woman, he bites his tongue. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m glad she did. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

Spock doesn’t smile but his eyes take on a spark of relief. “I would not wish to be anywhere else.”

Kirk’s heart forgets how to beat for a moment and he tucks that one away to pull out in the event that he hears anyone say that Vulcans are cold-hearted and completely lacking in any idea of romance.

“Come back to my place,” Kirk says, once they’re standing outside on the curb.

Spock hails a cab and holds the door open for him. “Yes.”

The ride seems to take no time at all. Spock steps out first and then waits for Kirk to lead the way. Kirk considers reaching out for Spock’s hand and then remembers what he said about the Vulcan way of kissing.

Kirk unlocks the door and pushes it open. He flips on lights as he walks through the house. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I am not thirsty.”

Kirk looks in the direction of Spock’s voice to find him already sitting on the couch. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, exactly, just like he isn’t quite sure how to settle himself into it. Spock meets Kirk’s gaze, his eyes dark and sure.

Kirk could really use a glass of water but instead he closes the fridge and crosses back toward the couch. He pauses and then drops directly over Spock’s lap. His knees brace to either side, sinking into the cushions, and he lurches. Spock reaches up, steadying him with a hand on his hip.

Their lips meet and this time it’s soft and slow, making up for lost time. Kirk shivers with the sheer lightness of it. He brings his hands up, resting them against Spock’s chest.

Spock’s mouth opens and Kirk accepts the invitation. Spock’s hand slides up the nape of Kirk’s neck to the side of his face, fingers placed almost like a Vulcan mind-meld. Kirk doesn’t feel anything but he’s not sure if he would. If the Vulcans know anything about telepathic links between their kind and humans, they keep the information close to the vest. It’s an intriguing thought, but he’s not sure if he’s ready for that level of relationship.

Kirk reaches up, twines their fingers together, and brings Spock’s hand back down to his side. He sucks Spock’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

Spock’s entire body tenses up. Kirk pulls away to apologize and check to make sure he’s okay. Before he can get the words out, Spock’s hands clench on his waist and flip him onto the couch.

“Wha—” Kirk’s words are smothered by Spock’s lips on his. In less than a second their places been reversed, Kirk sitting on the couch with Spock climbing into his lap. The reminder of Vulcan strength sends a shiver down Kirk’s spine.

Kirk’s hand slides down the Vulcan’s chest, grazing the front of his pants. He jerks away, intending to move to safer territory, but then Spock gives the tiniest buck.

Kirk stops breathing. Spock is _hard._ He’d known in his head that Vulcan anatomy is similar to human, but he hadn’t thought about it too much. Now he can’t _stop_ thinking about it.

“Have you ever…?” The words stop in his throat, but Kirk rests his fingers on Spock’s zipper, hoping he gets the point.

Spock pulls back hard but the movement only drives their hips into closer contact. Kirk bites down on his bottom lip to force back the groan in his throat. “I have not.”

“Would you like to?”

Spock swallows and even in the low light Kirk can see the green flush in his cheeks. “I would.”

Kirk kisses him again, harder this time. It turns into a fight, tongues and teeth and lips battling back and forth.

Spock crushes their chests together, making it difficult to get a hand in edgewise. Finally Spock eases back to breathe for a moment and Kirk’s able to pull down his zipper. This certainly isn’t what he’d had in mind for this evening. He’d thought maybe some making out on the couch, rubbing off on each other if they got really adventurous. This is better.

“Oh.” Spock’s eyes go wide when Kirk wraps a hand around him. Not enough room. Kirk struggles to push down Spock’s pants to a more acceptable level, longing to _see._

Spock’s cock looks human at first glance, with the exception that it’s dark green. Long, thin, and velvet soft. Kirk strokes down it once, mostly out of curiosity, and Spock lets out a broken sort of groan.

Kirk is painfully aware of how many layers are still between them and how much he wants them gone, but he can’t bring himself to break this. He keeps stroking, eyes fixed on Spock’s reactions. Kirk speeds up. No reaction. He slows down, tightening his grip a little to the point where it would be torture for him. Spock’s lips part, his breath coming faster.

Kirk’s never been harder in his life, his own cock protesting the tightness of his jeans, but he pushes that to the back of his mind, focusing on Spock. The way he tilts his head back. The way his eyes are closed but his eyelashes keep fluttering. His fingers digging into Kirk’s shoulders.

“ _Kirk_ ,” Spock groans, like a warning, and then he’s coming. Thick streams stain both of their shirts and Kirk rethinks the whole “there isn’t time for clothes removal” from earlier. Too late for that now. He doesn’t regret a thing.

When he’s done, Spock slumps forward, his forehead thumping against Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and peppers his neck with kisses, listening to the unsteady hitch of his breathing.

After a few minutes, Spock sits back up, balancing himself carefully on his knees. He meets Kirk’s gaze, cheeks still flushed, and murmurs something in Vulcan that Kirk can’t quite hear.

“You okay?” Kirk asks, brushing Spock’s damp bangs back.

Spock nods and swallows hard. His jaw works but he doesn’t say anything. Kirk bites back a laugh and leans forward into another kiss.

He’s just thinking about waiting until Spock leaves before he takes care of himself when his pants are pushed down and his brain fuzzes out for a moment. Spock’s hands are perfect but his strokes are too slow to do much more than send shivers up Kirk’s spine.

Kirk’s too busy panting into Spock’s shoulder to speak, so he wraps his hand around to direct him.

Spock starts murmuring in Vulcan again, the words rough and nonsensical in Kirk’s ears. It only takes two more strokes and Kirk goes off. He groans Spock’s name and bites down on his shoulder.

Spock lets go and they wait in silence, just catching their breath. It isn’t long before Kirk starts to feel uncomfortable.

“Shower?” Kirk asks.

Spock stands up and Kirk smirks at the slight way the Vulcan’s knees shake. He’s not laughing long, though, as he’s not in much better shape. The shower is quick and light on touching, both of them too tired to really start anything.

When they’re done, Kirk throws their clothes in the wash. He turns around, not sure if he’s about to ask Spock to stay or offer him clothes to wear home. Except the Vulcan is already sitting on his bed like he belongs there and Kirk can’t even consider watching him leave.

“Stay with me,” Kirk says and Spock nods. They fit easily together beneath the covers, fingers and legs twined together. Kirk wants to stay awake for a few minutes, to relish this chance, but sleep crashes down over him like a tsunami.

The other side of the bed is empty by morning. As Kirk reaches across, it occurs to him that this shouldn’t be strange. He’s woken to an empty bed most mornings of his life.

This is not supposed to be one of those mornings. He sits up, squinting towards the bathroom door but the lights are off. He only has another hour before he’s supposed to be at work, maybe Spock left to go home first.

Kirk mulls this thought over, wishing Spock had at least woken him up first, while he hits the bathroom. He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when there’s a banging in the kitchen. Kirk drops his toothbrush on the edge of the sink and goes to check it out.

Spock’s standing in the kitchen, wearing only his work slacks and overseeing the waffle iron. There’s already a stack of waffles on a plate, next to a bowl of strawberries.

Kirk rubs his eyes and says the first thing that pops into his head, “I don’t have strawberries.”

“I bought them,” Spock replies simply.

Kirk steps across the floor and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Spock’s stomach draws away from his cold hands. There’s a half-circle of small bruises just above his collarbone, where Kirk had bitten him the night before.

A minute later, Spock says, “The waffles are ready.” Kirk forces himself to draw away and goes to fetch more plates. Breakfast is comfortable and it cuts Kirk to the quick when he has to say, “We shouldn’t go to the office together.”

“Would that be suspicious?” Spock asks, setting their dishes in the sink.

Kirk shrugs, his heart sinking. “Coworkers don’t usually catch the same cab unless they live in the same building.”

“All right.” Spock walks wordlessly into the bedroom and comes back a few minutes later wearing the rest of his—now clean—clothes.

Kirk looks to the clock, forcing his thoughts away from the previous night. Only half an hour before they both have to be at work. “I will see you at the office, Kirk.”

“Yeah.” Kirk crosses the room in a few paces and kisses him quickly. “See you.”

Once Spock is gone, Kirk forces himself to get ready to leave. He can’t help but think of all the things they could have done with their extra time if they’d just been able to go to work together. Morning hand jobs, for one. Or blow jobs. Now there’s an idea.

Kirk spends most of the cab ride wondering if Spock would be up for that and is half-hard when he has to get out. He mentally kicks himself and thinks of Marcus.

There’s a progress report on the new starship on his desk, showing the raw frame of her. The goal completion date is only a month away and the crew still to be determined. Kirk can’t help but wonder who’s on that list of candidates, if he might be one of them if he’d taken a different path through the Academy.

Kirk puts the progress report aside and turns his attention to his other work, but he can’t get it out of his head. Dating is inevitable on starships, what with so much proximity and so little outside contact. He and Spock could be free to be together.

Kirk shakes his head. He’d made his bed. He is assistant head of command for San Francisco’s Starfleet headquarters with no opportunities for off-world advancement. That is that.

Kirk busies himself with his work for the rest of the morning, dealing with complaints, authorizing a couple of hiring decisions, ordering a press release for the science department’s newest grant. He’s returning phone calls when Spock knocks on his door frame.

“What can I do for you?” Kirk asks, even as he’s picturing Spock climbing into his lap.

Spock pulls a pair of subs out of a paper bag. “Lunch?”

“Let’s go outside.” Kirk locks things up and leads the way through the halls and out into the courtyard. It’s a circle of cobblestones topped with black plastic tables, surrounded by trees and a privacy fence. It may not be the fanciest place in the world but it beats eating lunch in an office.

Tracy from Accounting waves at him from her own table. Kirk waves back and leads Spock to his usual place along the fence, underneath an oak tree.

Once they sit down, Spock leans conspiratorially over the table. “I know you do not like to discuss work during your personal time, sir, but I believe it would be prudent in this situation.”

Kirk sighs and unwraps the sub Spock offers him. Turkey, ham, and lettuce with just a bit of pickle. It’s perfect.

“Tell me about your experiments,” Kirk says, because he knows that’ll get Spock talking for a while. He asks questions and makes comments in all the right places, mostly just enjoying the steady cadence of Spock’s voice.

In the middle of his sandwich, Spock gets an idea and has to run to ask someone for a couple sheets of paper. He doesn’t speak for the rest of lunch, busy making notes and sketching complicated diagrams. Kirk likes to watch Spock practically vibrating with suppressed passion. It makes Kirk want to distract him with a kiss, even if he’s only allowed to do so for a moment.

“You could be doing this first-hand,” Kirk blurts out, reading Spock’s notes upside-down. At least some of them are about medicinal properties of a rare plant on a planet that Kirk doesn’t recognize the name of.

Spock doesn’t even pause in his writing. “That is quite impossible. This plant does not exist on your planet. Nor have specimens survived transportation.”

“That’s why you study them on the planet.” Kirk polishes off the last of his sub and leans back in his chair. His watch says they have a few more minutes before they’re expected back to work.

“That is not within the parameters of my current position.” He still hasn’t paused in his writing, but his tone suggests that he doesn’t want to have this conversation again. Kirk lets it go and just watches Spock work for the last few minutes of their break.

The quiet monotony of the office wears on Kirk through the afternoon. He’s almost ecstatic when his pad pings with a personal message.

It’s Bones. _Drinks tonight?_

Kirk thinks of Spock and immediately accepts. It’s been a while since he’s seen his best friend, him busy with the office and Spock, Bones busy with the hospital and his wife and daughter.

When Kirk heads out, Spock takes his announcement that they won’t be able to hang out that night with the same casual expression that he takes everything. Kirk catches a cab to his favorite bar, a small place he and Bones have become rather attached to over the years. It never hurts that it’s perfectly located between the hospital, Starfleet headquarters, and the Academy. The lights are dim, the beer is cold, and the regulars tend to keep to themselves.

Bones is already sitting at the bar when he arrives, nursing a beer. Kirk climbs up onto the seat next to him. “How are things going at the hospital?”

“Fine.” Bones takes a full gulp of his beer. There’s something off in his voice as he talks about his supervisor, his shifts, one of the directors telling him that he could be chief surgeon one day. Kirk is so consumed with thoughts of how to explain Spock that it takes him a moment to realize that Bones has fallen silent. Not until he says, “She’s leaving me, Jim,” in a voice that’s raw and cracked.

Kirk’s thoughts screech to a halt. “What happened?”

“Caught her sleeping with that guy from management, the snake-faced one. She told me that I’m spending too much time at the hospital.” Bones’s breath rattles and he holds his beer like a lifeline, gulping down another swallow. “God damn it, Jim, she’s taking Joanna.”

Kirk’s heart drops. Bones may be the most gruff person he’s ever met but when he’s with his daughter the world looks bright. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Bones finishes off his beer and waves for another. “Probably have to go into space. Can’t stay here, can I?”

“You hate space.” That’s why, after everything they’d gone through in Starfleet, Bones was content in a city hospital rather than going anywhere in the universe. Well, that and Joanna.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Bones picks up his beer, sipping from it this time.

“I might be going into space too.” The words fly out of Kirk’s mouth before he really knows where they’re coming from. Sure, thinking about the new starship and all the possibilities with Spock is fun, but it’s not really feasible.

“Bullshit.” Bones looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Kirk gets a weird feeling that he and Spock might really get along, bonding over their shared exasperation with his ideas. “What are you talking about?”

Kirk shrugs. “Just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Since when?”

Kirk doesn’t want to burden Bones with talk of Spock and disregard for Starfleet regulations, not now. “It’s nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

Bones lets it go and they sit in silence for a few minutes before he asks how things have been going at work. Kirk talks about Marcus, his trip to Orlando, and the rest of the constant grind as best he can without mentioning that he has a new coworker.


	5. Chapter 5

“Let’s go somewhere nice,” Kirk says to Spock after work the next day. His skin has been itching to get out of the office and just _drive._ “Somewhere outside the city.” Where no one will know who we are. Where we can just be a normal couple out on a date instead of this facsimile of two coworkers out for a night.

“That is acceptable.” Spock smiles slightly, like he’s reading his mind.

After work, they take a cab to a parking garage on the outskirts of town. Kirk runs a hand up the side of his Camaro. It’s practically an antique, but in perfect condition. He swings into the driver’s seat and fires up the engine.

“Does this vehicle meet safety regulations?” Spock asks, looking skeptical.

Kirk looks scandalized. “Of course she does.”

Spock doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t protest as Kirk shifts into drive and pulls out of his spot. Once they’re out of the city, trees racing by to either side, Spock relaxes. He lets the tips of his fingers hang out the car window. Eventually, the trees give way to houses, followed by a small town.

Kirk parks out front of a small restaurant. The parking lot is packed, so it must be good. He’s never been here but he remembers Bones going on and on about how he always wanted to bring his wife here. Kirk allows himself a few seconds of sorrow that now he never will before he joins Spock at the front of the car.

Despite the packed interior of the place, the hostess is able to sit them right away. The inside of the restaurant looks rich and regal. Kirk runs a hand over the thick material of the red tablecloth as he looks out the window at the nice view of the ocean. Spock seems transfixed by the light of the candle in the middle of the table.

“What do you think?” Kirk asks.

Spock tears his eyes away from the candle. “It is aesthetically pleasing. And I must admit that the food smells appealing.”

Kirk can agree with that. He resists the urge to stare as a pair of steaks passes by their table. Thankfully their waitress appears in that moment with menus and he’s able to distract himself. Spock orders some kind of salad with a complicated name and Kirk, after much deliberation, circles back to the steak.

Kirk and Spock trade stories about Vulcan and Earth history as they eat, although every so often Spock stutters to a stop like he’s not supposed to be talking about something. Kirk is telling him about a battle that Marcus led—incidentally bringing about his promotion to Admiral—when, speak of the devil and he shall come, Marcus steps around the corner.

“Shit,” Kirk whispers, resisting the urge to duck his head behind his napkin.

Spock follows his gaze and frowns. “Is this dinner against regulation?”

“Well.” Kirk shifts anxiously in his seat and sets down his fork. “Coworkers don’t generally go out to dinner at fancy restaurants. Alone. Far away from their place of work. With—” He waves his hand at the candle, the beautiful view, the private table.

“I see.” Spock takes another bite of his salad. Kirk glances over to see if Marcus is gone.

The man catches his eye and starts over toward their table. Kirk’s heart pounds against his ribs. This is it, it’s over. They’re both done for. He’s so caught up in his own panic that it takes him a few moments to realize that Marcus isn’t alone.

Kirk has never seen Mrs. Marcus before but this must be her. Her blond hair is thick and wavy, framing a round face that’s bright with a smile. Before the admiral has a chance to say anything, she’s holding out her hand to Kirk and saying, “You must be Kirk. And you must be Spock.” She doesn’t offer her hand to the Vulcan, but inclines her head instead. Spock looks grateful as he nods back.

“Yes,” Kirk says, trying to force himself to be calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Marcus.”

“Please call me June.” She smiles at them again and Kirk can’t help but wonder what such an enthusiastic woman sees in their typically dour boss.

“June,” Spock says smoothly, his face impassive.

A waiter comes up behind them, hands clasped around a pair of menus. “Your table is ready, sir,” he tells Marcus.

For a horrified second, Kirk thinks that June might ask to join them instead. Then she glances down at the candle, her eyes get a strange gleam, and she says, “It was nice meeting you both. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too,” Kirk murmurs, watching as the two of them walk away. Only once they’ve disappeared into another room does he let out a sigh of relief and turn back to Spock. “That was…”

“Unexpected.” Spock nods. “I was not aware that Admiral Marcus was married.”

“Going on twenty-five years.” Kirk reaches to pick up his fork but finds that he’s lost his appetite. “They have a daughter. Why, were you hoping to move up the company ladder?” Kirk’s voice drops to teasing for the last question, hoping that Spock catches the humor.

He seems to, as he takes on a wry smile. “I do not believe the admiral is my type.”

“Oh, you have a type now?”

“Yes.” Spock’s next look is scorching and Kirk finds himself glancing around for the waiter so he can get the check. He pays the bill without even looking at it and then they’re headed out.

Blessedly, they don’t run into the Marcuses on the way out because Kirk can’t resist reaching over and twining his fingers with Spock’s. If the Vulcan has trouble with what, to him, might be a fairly indecent public display of affection, he doesn’t say anything.

Kirk swings easily into the drivers’ seat, feeling almost giddy. It evaporates when Spock says, “Marcus will not take issue with our presence together, will he?”

Kirk sighs as he fires up the engine. “I hope not, but there’s nothing to do but wait and see.”

The night closes in around the car, stars sparkling over their heads. Spock points out constellations and Kirk throws in the few others that he knows. It’s so simple and comfortable that he almost forgets their encounter with Marcus. It’s Friday, neither of them are going into work for a couple of days. Marcus will probably forget the whole thing by then.

Kirk drops his car back off at the parking garage and hails a cab. It’s only when he’s starting to climb into the back that he realizes Spock isn’t behind him.

Kirk leaves the door wide open and sticks his head back out. “Come home with me,” he says.

Spock hesitates for a moment while the cab driver radiates silent impatience and then climbs in. The ride back is silent.

Kirk and Spock slip their fingers against each others as they make their way up the stairs, only pulling away so Kirk can unlock the door. Once they’re inside, Spock wraps one hand around the back of Kirk’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. When they come apart, Kirk whispers, “Come to bed with me.”

Spock nods. Kirk takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom. They kiss again, hands slowly removing clothing. There’s no reason to rush this time.

Kirk’s fingers slip along Spock’s side, finding the steady beat of his heart, and Spock shivers at the touch. Without breaking contact, the two of them crawl into bed and slide underneath the covers. Spock rolls over, chest-to-chest with Kirk, their legs tangling together.

It’s slow and sweet, skin pressed against skin, lips moving without the rough desperation of their first time. Kirk is fully aware that they have all night—and all day tomorrow if they want to—and he intends to take full advantage.

Kirk gasps as Spock’s hand slide down his chest and wraps around his cock. The strokes are slow and deliberate but this time Kirk doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want to come fast, wants to luxuriate in it instead.

Spock leans down, pressing his lips to Kirk’s collarbone before running his teeth over it. Kirk whines at the slight sting and clings tighter. There’s a hitch in Spock’s strokes and then he tightens his grip, moving faster.

Kirk’s eyes slip closed as his hips buck off the bed. When he comes, it takes him by surprise. He groans “ _Spock_ ” and feels like he’s sinking into the bed as the tremors slow.

Kirk opens his eyes, feeling Spock rubbing off against his thigh with movements so tiny he might not even aware of them. Kirk nudges Spock over onto his back, sliding on top. He presses open-mouthed kisses onto the Vulcan’s chest, noting the spread of a green flush.

He moves down Spock’s stomach, sucking hard enough for him to feel it but not enough to leave a mark.

Spock starts to speak but only a string of unconnected syllables comes out. Kirk shushes him quietly, dragging his teeth lightly over the point of his hip. “Unless you want me to stop,” Kirk adds, pulling away.

“No,” Spock says, his normally composed voice rough and low. Kirk smiles, pressing one more kiss to the inside of his thigh before situating himself between Spock’s legs.

It’s been a while so he starts slow, resting a hand on Spock’s hips while sucking lightly at the head. The taste isn’t much different than what experience Kirk has had with humans, maybe a little more sour. Spock lets out a whine.

Kirk wraps his free hand around Spock’s base and focuses on relaxing his throat so he can take him in as far as he can go. It’s not quite enough, but it’s close.

“ _Kirk_ ,” Spock growls. He bobs his head once, then twice, and Spock comes. The sour taste is almost more than he can handle but he swallows it down anyway. He only has a few seconds to recover before Spock is tangling a hand in his hair and tugging him up into a kiss.

Their tongues tangle together and if Spock is bothered by the taste of himself, he doesn’t show it. Kirk breaks the kiss first, panting for air. “I would like to repeat that.”

Kirk laughs. “Of course. Anything you like.” He slides down onto his side, tangling his legs with Spock’s and resting his head against his chest. They’re sticky with sweat and it’s almost too warm, but Kirk can’t bring himself to pull away. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Spock’s fingers carding through his hair.

If neither of them having to go to work the next morning means Kirk can wake up with Spock still stretched out next to him, he never wants to go to work again. His boyfriend is still asleep, face and body more relaxed than Kirk has ever seen him. The only visible corner of his mouth is turned up in the slightest smile.

Kirk slips out of bed as quietly as he can and heads straight for the shower. He’s just rinsing his hair when he hears the door creak open. Footsteps whisper across the floor toward him. Kirk could call out an invitation for Spock to join him, but instead he just waits.

There’s a pause followed by silence. Spock isn’t wearing any clothes to hit the floor.

Steam pours out of the shower as Spock pulls the curtain aside. Kirk reaches out and tugs him into the spray. “There’s a very important Earth custom that we’ve been missing out on,” Kirk says, pressing kisses against Spock’s shoulder.

“Is this an aspect of courtship—”

Kirk bites down on his collarbone, bringing him to a halt. “No, Spock. Morning sex.”

“Oh.” Spock seems more than eager to agree. Kirk’s toes are starting to wrinkle by the time they finally drag themselves from the shower.

Kirk wraps himself in a towel, leaving Spock to get ready, and goes to see if there’s anything he can knock together for breakfast.

After they eat, Spock heads out to check on his experiments. Kirk decides to take advantage of the alone time to do some cleaning. He hasn’t really taken care of his apartment since before he left for Orlando and—well—if someone else is going to be staying then he doesn’t want to place to be a mess.

When Spock returns, a “hello” kiss turns into making out which turns into hand jobs on the couch. Kirk pants into Spock’s chest, the two of them tangled up and laying across the cushions. He says, “I was going to ask if you wanted to go out to dinner but you look so nice that I don’t think I can bear for you to leave.”

Spock runs a hand up Kirk’s arm. “I would not be opposed to eating here.”

“Good,” Kirk says and drags him into another kiss.

Kirk answers the door in his boxers and, to her credit, the delivery girl doesn’t look phased. She’s probably seen a lot worse. He tips her well and closes the door.

There’s a Philly cheese steak sandwich for Kirk and a salad with cranberries and walnuts for Spock. They eat at the table without even bothering to get dressed. Spock talks through a problem he’s been having identifying what exactly in one of his plants is causing psychoactive effects. Kirk listens, his face slipping into a smile over the Vulcan’s passion.

Once dinner is over, they retire to the living room where a movie is ignored in minutes in favor of making out.

It’s around three in the morning when Kirk lifts his head to suggest that they move to the bed. Spock’s head is tucked into Kirk’s shoulder, his breathing heavy. Kirk settles back down and closes his eyes.

It’s a lazy Sunday, filled with a trip to the grocery store to get food for both of them, a massage for Kirk to get rid of the kinks in his back from sleeping on the couch followed by blow jobs for them both, and cuddling on the couch with some documentary about the history of Starfleet. When they get to the part about George Kirk’s heroic actions, Kirk tenses up until Spock’s lips run up and down his neck. He waits for the inevitable questions but they don’t come.

Kirk tosses Spock one of his own shirts to wear when it’s time for bed. It hangs loose around his shoulders but short in the torso. Kirk wants to laugh but the Vulcan looks so adorable that he smiles and kisses him instead. Kirk tries not to think about how their weekend of solitude is almost over as they crawl beneath the covers.

In the morning, the bed shifts and rocks as Spock climbs out of it. The knowledge that it’s definitely time for them to separate again, even just for work, is like a kick to Kirk’s chest.

He doesn’t want Spock to crawl out of bed before he wakes up like a one-night stand. He thinks about saying goodbye, suggesting Spock grab some clothes to keep in his closet, but then he’s not sure he can let Spock walk out the door after that.

So he keeps quiet, watches Spock navigate around in the dark, and tries not to feel like his heart is breaking when he hears the door close.

Kirk leaves his apartment alone, takes a cab alone, and heads into headquarters alone. He drops into the accounting office, asks for the past month’s financials, and then heads to his own office. He looks over the reports from accounting—everything is solid, though his nose wrinkles when he catches Marcus claiming his dinner date as a business expense on his company card—and calls the Orlando office for an update. Everything is as it should be and yet it all feels wrong.

That itch stretches out for the rest of the week. Work is normal. Better than normal, actually, as Marcus doesn’t even have any insane requests for once. That’s not to say he’s acting differently, he still barges into Kirk’s office for reports and sends emails with constant questions about his own calendar. Kirk tries to keep his contact with Spock to a minimum, but of course there are meetings and briefings and reports to go over. Questions for both of their departments, fulfilling the “liaison” portion of Spock’s title. The sheer normality of it makes Kirk want to scream.

Spock comes back to Kirk’s apartment in the evening and, after a couple of nights, some extra clothes also find their way into Kirk’s closet. Kirk forgets what it feels like to go to bed alone. He still wakes up alone, most of the time. Sometimes he feels Spock leave and then he just gets up. They still never say goodbye.

Friday night rolls around again, although with the detraction of a looming Saturday at work, when a realization hits Kirk across the head. “You know, I’ve never seen your apartment,” he says as they’re standing on the curb, waiting for a cab. “I’m starting to feel like you really _do_ live at the office when you’re not with me.”

“I assure you I have an adequate residence.” Spock pauses and a cab pulls up. “You may come over tonight, if you wish.”

Kirk feels anxious at the prospect, strange considering the things he’s done with Spock over the past few weeks and the fact that he’s practically _living_ with the Vulcan. “I’d love to.”

Spock’s apartment turns out to be in a large complex not far from headquarters but in the opposite direction of Kirk’s. They take the elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor.

“My apartment,” Spock says, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Kirk isn’t sure what he’s expecting but if he really had to hazard a guess he would think Spock’s apartment would be like his office. Only the furniture absolutely necessary for living and no personal adornments.

In truth, the apartment looks rather normal. There are several bookshelves, crammed with what seems to be all science volumes. A few of them—all botany—are strewn across the coffee table sitting in front of a couch. There’s a side table next to one arm, placed in front of the window to allow the plants on top of it to get sunlight.

“Experiments?” Kirk asks, gesturing at the plants.

Spock shakes his head, walking over to them and plucking a dead leaf off what looks like a miniature rose bush. “These are mine.”

“You have a nice place,” Kirk says, taking in the three-dimensional chess board in the corner. He steps through an archway into what turns out to be the kitchen.

“Thank you.” Spock follows him, tossing the leaf into a trash bin.

The kitchen is more to what Kirk expected: perfectly clean and only the essentials. He resists the urge to peek into the fridge and heads instead across the hall to the bedroom. There’s a bed, a closet, and a single framed portrait on the wall. Kirk walks closer for a better look. An older man, clearly Vulcan, and a brown-haired human woman holding a baby. Spock’s parents.

“My mother insisted that I bring it,” Spock says, his hands sliding around Kirk’s waist.

Kirk twines their fingers together and pulls him toward the bed. “Do you miss them?”

“That would not be logical.” Spock follows along easily and falls to his side on top of the covers. “Sometimes I would like to see them.”

Kirk smiles and stretches out next to him, leaning in for a kiss. “I’d like to meet them someday.”

“Perhaps you will.” Spock kisses him again and they don’t talk after that, not for a long time.

In the morning, it’s Kirk sneaking out of bed before Spock wakes up. He’s not sure if he likes this version better. At least when Spock leaves all he has to do is lay there.

After what is supposed to be a short day at work but seems longer than normal, they go back to Kirk’s apartment. A part of him wants to suggest they go back to Spock’s place, but he doesn’t have any clothes over there. This seems a massive oversight now.

They eat dinner and tumble unceremoniously into bed, hands pulling off clothes and letting them fly in every direction. In the end, they’re both sitting up, Kirk braced in Spock’s lap.

They kiss with the ease of long familiarity and Kirk’s so lost in it that he doesn’t notice Spock’s hand sliding down his back until it goes lower, the tips of Spock’s fingers playing at his rim.

Kirk jumps, pulling hard out of the kiss. Spock’s eyes flash with a moment of confusion and concern. Kirk has thought it _a lot_ but they haven’t done anything like this before. _Kirk’s_ never done anything like this before.

“Was that not acceptable?” Spock asks and even his overly formal phrasing sounds hot as hell with the slight rasp in his voice.

“It’s fine.” Kirk grinds forward lightly. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I did some research.” Spock’s hand slips down again, stopping at the base of his spine. “Seventy-seven percent of men enjoy—”

“Whoa, Spock.” Kirk tugs away again. “I’m happy to try out things with you but I don’t need to know what other men enjoy.”

Spock nods and leans up into a kiss. Kirk lets it go on for a few minutes and then pulls away, stretching across the bed for his side table. Pushed into the back are a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He grabs the bottle and one of the condoms. Spock takes both and nudges Kirk over onto his back.

Spock takes his time squeezing lube onto his fingers and running it between them. A soft moan slips through Kirk’s lips as he thinks of the sensitivity of Vulcan fingers.

“Are you going to make me do it myself?” Kirk finally asks, spreading his legs a little wider. Spock freezes, smirks, and slides over top of him. His hand drops between them and he slides a fingertip inside.

Kirk tugs Spock down, placing kisses against his collarbone, until his finger presses in knuckle-deep. “Is this okay?” Spock whispers as Kirk’s head drops back against the pillow.

“If you stop, so help me—” The words end in a hiss as Spock’s finger slides back out before pressing in again. He sets up a steady rhythm until Kirk’s squirming for more. A second joins the first and Kirk moans again.

It feels like Spock is searching for something as he crooks his fingers and presses lightly. Kirk almost jumps off the bed when he finds it.

“Do that again,” he groans and Spock does. Kirk’s about ready to start begging when a third finger joins the others. Rather than being too much, it’s definitely not enough. Kirk braces his heels against the bed, pushes and grinds up but with Spock’s weight above him there isn’t enough room to move.

Then Spock shifts, his free hand searching above them while the other doesn’t even pause in his thrusts. There’s a crinkle as he finally finds the condom. Kirk whines at the loss as he pulls his fingers out and sits up to put it on.

For a moment, time stands still. It dawns on Kirk that he’s about to let Spock fuck him and shiver runs down his back. Without a word, Spock lines himself up and pushes inside. It’s…Kirk doesn’t know how he’s been missing out on this all these years.

Spock pushes in slowly, inch by torturous inch. When he can’t take it anymore, Kirk bucks up, driving Spock in up to the hilt. They both groan, stilling at the contact.

Kirk reaches up, finds where Spock’s weight is braced against his hand, and twines their fingers together. Spock’s lips part, his breath coming out in a sharp gust. The feeling is almost uncomfortable as he pulls out but then he thrusts in hard and Kirk forgets all about any discomfort.

This is the best.

Spock sets a steady pace, sure and strong. Kirk rises up to meet each thrust, driving him just a little bit deeper. Sweat sticks in the space between them. Groans slip between their lips. Spock’s lips move incessantly, but Kirk isn’t sure if he’s speaking Vulcan again or if the words are just too quiet to hear.

Kirk brings his legs up, locking his ankles behind Spock’s back and urging him on. The new angle sends Spock’s cock glancing off his prostate and Kirk’s back arches off the bed as fire races through his veins. A whine slips between his lips and Spock takes the hint, repeating the motion again and again.

The friction along with the feel of someone inside of him brings him to the edge but isn’t enough to push him over. Kirk slips a hand between them and wraps it around his own cock. There isn’t enough room to move properly but he’s not going to last long anyway. One stroke, two, and then Spock thrusts so hard that he sees stars. He only has enough time to thumb at his head before he’s coming.

Spock lets out a groan, louder than ever before, at the feeling. He thrusts once more and stills, face clenching up as he comes. Kirk circles this thumb against Spock’s wrist, watching him. Finally Spock pulls out as gently as he can and falls to his side on the bed.

“Wow,” Kirk sighs, his muscles feeling like jelly. He’s sticky with sweat and come, but the idea of getting up for a shower seems like more work than he’s currently capable of.

“I would repeat that,” Spock says, still stretched out on his side with his eyes closed.

Kirk strokes two fingers down the side of his boyfriend’s cheek. “Me too.”

They stay tangled up in bed for about an hour until Kirk starts to get cold and uncomfortable with the mess. He pulls himself out of bed and then tugs Spock along with him, leading the way to the shower.

Kirk wakes tangled up in Spock’s limbs the next morning and his first thought is _I never want this to end._ He doesn’t want to watch Spock walk out that door—either tonight or before work in the morning.

He wants to move all of Spock’s clothes into his closet, the painting of his parents maybe in the living room above the couch. He wants to take Spock to the Vulcan-style furniture outlet two hours out of the city and see if there’s anything he might like. He wants them to take the same cab to work and the same cab home. He wants the freedom Marcus has with his wife, the ability to go anywhere on a date without feeling like hiding underneath the table.

He wants it all. Damn Starfleet regulations straight to hell.

Spock stirs and Kirk forces his muscles back into a lazy sense of relaxation. He can tell by the look of concern in Spock’s eyes when they open that he’s failed. “Is there a problem?” Spock asks, his voice lay with sleep.

“No.” Kirk leans over and kisses his forehead. “No problems at all.”

“I can feel your frustration and indecision.” Spock brushes two fingers across his temple, not enough to form a real link.

Affection rushes through Kirk. “What are we doing, Spock?”

“I presume we are enjoying solitude in each other’s company before breakfast.”

Kirk sighs. “With us. We’re moving so fast and—” He doesn’t know how to say the rest, wishes that Spock would just move his fingers a few inches higher and read him like a book.

“Are you unsatisfied with our relationship?”

“It’s not you—” Kirk stops short of the old cliché _it’s me._ It’s not him either. “It’s work. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Spock withdraws to his own side of the bed. “Regulation 1254.7 states—”

“I know what it says.” Kirk reaches gently across the open space between them and rests his hand against Spock’s chest. “I’m just frustrated. Things will get better.”

Spock doesn’t say anything to that and Kirk climbs out of bed with a dark feeling in his gut. Things _aren’t_ going to get better. The regulations aren’t going to change and neither of them have any plans to leave their current positions. It’s just something he’s going to have to learn to live with.

Spock goes home early that night, citing paperwork that he’d like to finish before work, leaving Kirk to fall asleep alone. The apartment seems too quiet and the bed too big without someone else in it.

In the end, Kirk gets up and sorts through emails on his pad for a few hours before exhaustion overtakes him anyway. He wakes up on the couch, his back twisted into an uncomfortable position.

It’s bound to be a long day when Kirk steps out of the elevator and Marcus is standing there waiting for him.

“What can do for you, sir?” Kirk asks, doing his best to sound like he’s decently awake.

“I’ll have a file on your pad in five minutes,” Marcus says, following him down the hall. “Estimates of supplies and personnel for the new ship. I don’t know who did that but I have a feeling there’s something wrong with them.”

Kirk resists the urge to point out that he can check them over himself if he has a concern and says instead, “Wouldn’t that be the responsibility of someone who has worked directly on starships?”

Marcus waves a hand. “I want you to do it.”

“Fine.” Kirk pauses outside of his office door to unlock it. “What’s the timeline?”

“I need whatever you have by the end of the day.” Marcus walks away as Kirk drops his keys and has to crouch over to pick them up, grumbling under his breath. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.


	6. Chapter 6

Kirk spends most of the morning just trying to puzzle everything out. He reviews starship regulations and then reads reports on supply and personnel requirements on other vessels.

The _problem_ is that the new ship isn’t supposed to be like any other. She’s state-of-the-art, designed for exploratory missions into unknown space. How is he supposed to know what that would require?

Spock pokes his head in around lunch time. “I’m going to the deli on twelfth,” he says.

It takes Kirk a few moments to realize that it isn’t going to be followed by a question. He assumes it’s meant to be an invitation and not asking permission. “I’m swamped.” Kirk waves his hand at his pad and the multiple sheets of notes. Spock steps carefully across the floor and glances over it upside-down.

“This is the new starship,” Spock says, tapping his finger on a blueprint.

Kirk nods and turns it around so that Spock can see it better. “Marcus has me reviewing the personnel and supply requirements for errors.” Spock raises an eyebrow at him but Kirk doesn’t feel like getting into it right now. “Can you grab me a turkey on rye?”

“I am quite capable.” Spock glances down at his notes one more time and then heads out the door. Kirk’s made little progress by the time he returns. He accepts his sandwich without saying anything and Spock leaves again.

By the end of the day, Kirk has what he hopes are adequate notes on the personnel. He recommends a small command team, but higher numbers of science, medical, engineering, and security officers. The last one especially; no one knows what they might encounter out there. He doesn’t see anything _wrong_ with the estimates that they have but they do seem overly minimal.

Kirk knocks on Marcus’s door and waits for the invitation to enter. Marcus doesn’t look up as he sets the notes on his desk. “I will need at least another day to give notes on the supplies,” Kirk says. “I need to do more research on the possible requirements.”

“You have until morning,” Marcus says, glancing at his notes but still not looking up.

Fury burns through Kirk like acid. He’s not going to stay up all night to work on this fucking report. He has things to do—a _boyfriend_ to do. “Close of work tomorrow.”

Marcus finally looks up at that. “This is not a negotiation. Hiring and stocking procedures have to begin immediately.”

“It can wait one more day.” Kirk slams his pad onto the desk. “Close of work tomorrow or you can find someone else.”

The admiral pauses for a minute, considering him. Finally he says, “By the end of the day tomorrow and it better be thorough.”

“Yes, sir.” Kirk doesn’t feel relieved, just less like he wants to punch his boss in the face. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Kirk.”

Spock isn’t in his office when Kirk drops by and he isn’t waiting at Kirk’s apartment either. His heart tugs with worry as he shoots Spock a message and then opens the fridge to see what he might be able to turn into dinner. He’s pushing hamburger around a pan when he gets a response.

_Emergency with my experiments. I will not join you tonight._

Kirk tries not to feel disappointed as he fires off a “good luck and good night” message. He eats in front of the TV and it’s not enough to distract him. When he’s done eating, he flips it off and pulls out his pad again. If he’s going to be alone tonight, he might as well be productive about it.

By the time Kirk is standing outside of Marcus’s office for the second time, he has twenty pages of detailed notes and a massive headache. His boss isn’t inside—Kirk had been hoping as much—so he just leaves the notes on his desk. As he’s turning around, he hears Spock’s door down the hall close and he bolts out to meet him.

“How are your experiments?” Kirk asks as they step into the elevator together.

Spock’s eyebrows raise in his equivalent of a shrug. “Issues have been dealt with and they are proceeding as scheduled.”

“Good.” Kirk shifts on his feet, feeling more uncomfortable with the Vulcan that he has in ages. “Will you come home with me tonight?”

Spock looks over, matches his gaze. “Yes, captain.”

Kirk feels like he’s been shoved in the chest but there isn’t any time to question him on it. The title swims in his head as they step out of the elevator. Spock walks ahead to hail them a cab. They don’t say anything the whole way home or on the walk to his apartment.

Finally, once they’ve stepped inside the safety of his living room, Kirk manages to straighten out his thoughts enough to put them into words. “Why did you call me captain?”

“Because you are better than a desk job.” Spock turns around, his eyes blazing with something fierce. “You are capable of being a Starfleet captain. An admiral.”

Kirk’s mind considers that for a moment and then blazes with matching heat. “What about you?”

“We’re not discussing my life choices.”

Kirk ignores him. “You could be a Starfleet science officer. Maybe have a ship of your own. And yet you’re a liaison. You’re my _assistant._ ”

Spock pushes into his personal space. “If you are unsatisfied with my performance, it is well within your parameters to replace me.”

Kirk’s body trembles with frustration. He doesn’t want Spock replaced, doesn’t want anyone else sitting behind that desk. He wants something else, another life maybe. A life where the both of them aren’t being wasted on solid ground.

He doesn’t know how to put that into words, though, so he just reaches out and rests his hands on either side of Spock’s face. Their eyes close as they sink into a kiss, angry and soft in turns. Only when Kirk’s lungs begin to ache does he pull away and rest his forehead against Spock’s. “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he whispers.

“I am not leaving,” Spock murmurs.

Kirk pulls away, twining their fingers together and leading Spock to the bedroom. He whispers, “I love you” into the Vulcan’s ear as he slowly removes their clothes.

He half-expects a response about love being illogical, or perhaps whispered words of the Vulcan equivalent. Instead, Spock says, “I love you too” and rests his fingers on Kirk’s temple.

In all the things they’ve done, they’ve never set up a proper telepathic link before. Kirk freezes, afraid that he’ll move and break the connection. Spock’s free hand runs down his arm soothingly, encouraging the tension from his muscles.

Spock whispers something in Vulcan and then emotion hits Kirk like a train. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before, the emotion of two people running through his veins. There’s his own love for Spock, a constant and delicate burn, but there’s also Spock’s love for him.

Anyone who says Vulcans cannot feel has never been loved by one.

The sheer weight of it threatens to send him crashing to his knees. Spock leads him gently to the bed, pushing him down to sit without breaking the psychic link.

Feelings filter back and forth across the bridge between them—confusion, fear, elation, affection, anger, distress—until Kirk isn’t sure which ones belong to him and which to Spock. Pleasure rockets through them both, only some of it a memory of his own, and Kirk gasps, hips bucking up into empty air.

The mixture continues to build. Kirk jerks away, so hard it actually hurts. “Too much,” he groans between breaths. “Too much.”

“I am sorry.” Spock’s hands move to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin. “I have never performed such a link before. I was not aware that it would be so…intense.”

“It’s okay.” Kirk pushes himself up onto the bed so that he can rest his head on the pillows. Spock crawls up and lays out next to him.

Once they’ve caught their breath, Spock asks, “What was it like?” He pauses for a moment, eyes working as he searches for the right word. “Receiving?”

Kirk isn’t sure how to describe any of it. He reaches across and pulls Spock’s hand back to his temple. “Let me show you.”

This time the link is thin, less like a bridge and more like a phone line. Spock’s consciousness is gentle and patient, waiting for Kirk to bring the memory of that night into the forefront.

Kirk focuses on the feelings—the initial strangeness, the momentary pain giving way to sheer pleasure—and doesn’t hold anything back. They both gasp as Kirk remembers the feeling of Spock first pushing in to him, that rush of connection.

Kirk doesn’t miss the sharp tang of curiosity and want that flares through his mind before the bond breaks.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spock?” There’s a moment, Spock tensing up and a green flush rising on his cheeks. Kirk opens his mouth to say more, but then Spock is straddling him and his mouth is otherwise occupied.

It isn’t long before Spock is scrambling through the side table for the lube and condoms. He pops open the cap but, before he can do anything, Kirk takes it from him. “It’s my turn,” Kirk says and then, after a pause, “if that’s okay with you.”

Spock nods and braces himself over Kirk’s waist in answer.

This is really happening. Kirk absorbs that for a moment as he squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. His cock twitches but he ignores it. He’s going to take his time with this one. His fingers circle around Spock’s rim, barely touching.

“Jim,” Spock says, his tone somewhere between a plea and an order. Kirk can only assume that he plucked his preferred name from his thoughts but that doesn’t stop the shiver from going down his spine at the sound of it.

Kirk shushes him gently and then slides his finger in straight up to the knuckle. He holds still for a moment, letting Spock adjust until he starts to grind down on it in an attempt for more. Kirk sets a slow pace, not wanting it to be too much.

“Another,” Spock demands and Kirk obeys, sliding a second finger beside the first and scissoring them. Kirk crooks his fingers, wondering if Vulcans’ prostates match human anatomy better than their hearts. It must, if the soft cursing that slips from Spock’s lips as he hits something is any indication.

“Good?” Kirk asks and Spock can’t do anything but nod. He adds a third finger and quickens the pace. Pre-cum drips from Spock’s cock and lands on Kirk’s stomach.

Spock pulls away hard, hand scrambling from the condom, dragging Kirk’s fingers out. Spock’s hands are surprisingly steady as he rips the wrapper open and rolls the condom onto Kirk’s cock.

“Wait,” Kirk calls as he starts to line himself up. Spock pauses just long enough to let Kirk slick himself up.

Afraid that he won’t last long enough, Kirk forces his gaze to Spock’s face. His expression is a strange mixture, like he’s fighting to maintain his composure but it keeps breaking, flickers of pleasure coming through. His pupils are blown, lips slightly parted.

Kirk holds himself still even as every instinct urges him to push up. Spock clenches around him as he bottoms out and Kirk almost cries with it.

Spock’s thighs tremble as he begins to push himself up. “Shh,” Kirk whispers and wraps his hands around his hips. Without pulling out, he guides Spock over onto his back and presses down chest-to-chest. Spock’s head falls back against the pillows, his eyes closed.

Worry flashes low in Kirk’s stomach. “Would you like to stop?” he asks, already starting to pull out.

Spock’s eyes shoot open and his hands land on Kirk’s ass, holding him in place with surprising strength considering his earlier shakiness. Not stopping then. Okay. Kirk pushes back in and holds still, waiting for Spock to relax.

It takes a while but finally he feels Spock’s muscles unlock. Kirk starts to move, keeping his thrusts slow. Spock’s hands clench around his hips and, he must have had enough of the slow pace, because he flips them both back over.

Kirk barely has time to adjust to the change of position before Spock is bracing himself against the bed and… _oh._ Spock rolls his hips down hard, setting a furious pace. Oh God. Kirk’s not going to last long like this, not when he can see Spock’s mouth wide open and his eyes closed, not with the green flush that’s quickly spreading down his chest, not with the way his hips are constantly moving, taking Kirk all the way in before pulling back again.

Kirk braces his heels against the bed and pushes up, hard. Spock lets out a whine that sends heat racing down his spine. Kirk does it again, and again, trying to focus on anything that’ll delay his own orgasm.

Spock drops himself down and squeezes, his thighs shaking on either side of Kirk’s waist. Then Spock freezes and, without a hand on his cock, he’s coming. That’s all it takes. Kirk drops his head back on the pillow and groans as he comes. When he opens his eyes, he reaches up to pull Spock down into a kiss.

“That was…” Spock pauses, jaw working as he searches for a word to adequately describe what they just did.

Kirk shakes his head, kissing him again. “Yeah.”

“Can we—”

“I’ll be insulted if we don’t.” For now, though, Kirk hauls himself out of bed. There’s time for a long shower and then a clean set of sheets to crawl between.

When Spock wakes up an hour before the alarm is due to go off, Kirk feels a strange sense of panic. He reaches out into the dark, wrapping his fingers around Spock’s wrist. “Don’t go,” he whispers.

The bed creaks as Spock sits back down. “If I am to arrive to headquarters as scheduled, I must leave now.”

“Stay.” Kirk tugs out his arm again, wishing that he could see Spock’s expression in the dark. “You have clothes in my closet. We can catch a cab together. Just once, please, Spock.”

Spock sighs but then he climbs beneath the covers again, allowing Kirk to snuggle up to him once more. “What if we are questioned?”

Kirk kisses his bare shoulder. “Then we went out for drinks last night and I offered to let you stay over instead of taking a cab home.”

“Vulcans do not drink.”

“I’m trying here.” Kirk buries his face into the crook of Spock’s arm and falls into silence. Until the alarm goes off and shatters the solitude, there’s nothing but the steady sound of their breathing.

Spock’s worries turn out to be unnecessary. No one notices them getting out of the cab a block away or walking into the building together. Kirk reminds himself that it’s only temporary as they break apart to their respective offices for the day.

Marcus is waiting outside his office when Kirk arrives. He braces himself, waiting for criticism about his reports or maybe some other job that Marcus wants done this minute. Instead, his boss says, “I just wanted to tell you good work, Kirk.”

Kirk is so prepared for something terrible that he doesn’t know how to jump gears for a minute. “Thank you, sir.”

Marcus slaps him on the shoulder. “In another life you must have been a captain yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” Kirk still isn’t quite sure what’s going on. He fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

“Have a good day.” Marcus leaves and it takes Kirk about ten minutes to straighten out his thoughts enough to actually get to work. His reports on the supplies and personnel were good? Not just good, but on the level of an actual captain? He tries to remember if Marcus has ever given him praise, especially not accompanied by a list of criticism, and comes up empty.

Kirk is checking the clock and his calendar, trying to decide when it would be best to take lunch, when his pad pings with a personal message. He glances over. _Bones. Any chance I could get you away from your desk and out to lunch?_

_Give me twenty minutes,_ Kirk replies and, after a couple more messages deciding on a place, he locks up his office.

Spock is on the phone when Kirk sticks his head in, but he wraps up the call quickly. “I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” Kirk says. “If anyone asks, I’ll be back within an hour.”

Spock nods, the picture of professionalism. “I will do so.”

“Thanks.” Kirk holds up two fingers in a symbol of a Vulcan kiss as he starts to walk away. Just before he turns, he sees Spock do the same against the surface of his desk.

Bones is at a little cafe down the street, sitting at one of the white metal tables outside. Kirk slides into the chair opposite him. Before either of them can say anything, a waitress comes over. Once she’s gone, Bones says, “I have a job offer.”

Kirk raises an eyebrow, swiping Bones’s coffee cup and taking a sip. Black. He sticks out his tongue in disgust and pushes it back across the table. “From who?”

“The captain of the USS Aldrin.” Bones lets out a long sigh. “I’ll be serving underneath the chief medical officer.”

“That’s considered a promotion, right?” Kirk stirs a couple packets of sugar and creamer into his coffee when it arrives.

Bones scoffs. “I suppose it is.”

“Congratulations.” Kirk raises his coffee cup in cheers.

He snorts again. “I’ve been told, if I play my cards right, I could get a position on that damn ship they’re building right now.”

Kirk tries to picture Bones running around a medbay but Bones’s pathological fear of space holds him back. Their sandwiches arrive before Kirk can think of something to stay.

“This is crazy, Jim.” Bones pauses in spreading mayo on his sandwich to wave his knife for emphasis. “Me. In space.”

“I know, Bones.” Kirk takes a bite of his sandwich.

They eat in silence for a few minutes. “That thing you said about thinking about going into space,” Bones says tentatively.

“Maybe.” Kirk fixes his eyes on his plate. “I think about it more every day.”

“I thought you were happy to stay on Earth.”

Kirk works his jaw, trying to figure out how to put his change of heart into words. Bones knows all about his decision not to pursue off-world assignments. The death of his father. The loss of his mother to the stars. How he ran when the Starfleet recruiter encouraged him to join and never looked back.

“Jim?” Bones prompts.

Kirk looks back up, realizing that Bones has finished half his sandwich in the time he spent thinking. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Which ship is she on?” Bones rolls his eyes.

Kirk sets down his sandwich, stomach rolling. “ _He’s_ not on a ship.”

“Oh.” Bones takes a moment to digest that. “Then what does that have to do with going into space?”

“He works for my office.” Kirk gulps down a few swallows of water. “Regulations against dating and all that. We’ve been seeing each other in secret.”

Bones gives a sympathetic grimace. “And if one or both of you go into space…”

“The regulations aren’t the same.” Kirk nods in agreement. “We could date and no one could say anything about it as long as it didn’t interfere with our work. Which it doesn’t.”

“What does he say about this?”

Kirk sighs, wishing he could say for sure. “That he’s satisfied with his position. He doesn’t want to go back into space.”

“Back?” Bones glances down at his watch and waves for a check. It takes Kirk a moment to realize that it was for his benefit. It’s definitely almost time to start walking back to the office if he wants to be there on time.

“He’s from Vulcan.”

Bones’s eyes almost pop right out of his head. “He’s Vulcan?”

“Half.”

“There are half-Vulcans?”

“At least one.” Kirk reaches across for the check but Bones pulls it away. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I just know that I can’t keep this a secret forever.”

Bones stares at him with a strange expression on his face, not looking at the waitress as he hands her the check and tells her she’s all set. “You’re really serious about this guy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kirk’s face splits into a wry smile. “I am.”

Kirk pokes his head into Spock’s office on the way back through. It’s to let Spock know that Kirk’s back from lunch, but the truth is he just really wants to see his face. Then he forces himself back down the hall and to work.

Two hours later, Kirk sighs, sitting back on the floor where he’s digging through a filing cabinet for a disciplinary report. He has to admit that Spock’s organizational system has been working a lot better for him. Until now, that is.

Kirk knocks on the inside of Spock’s door and waits for him to look up. “I can’t seem to find a personnel file,” he says.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “They are all together in the properly labeled cabinet and organized alphabetically.”

“I know.” Kirk leans his forehead against the door frame, resisting the urge to bang his head against it. “I’ve been looking for fifteen minutes.”

Spock gets to his feet and follows him back to his office. Opens the cabinet that Kirk has spent most of his time searching. “Name?”

“Gregoria Kay.”

Spock digs through and within five seconds is holding up the file.

Kirk scowls. “How?”

“It was facing backwards and stuck inside another file,” Spock replies, still waiting for him to take it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Kirk should say thank you and send him back to whatever he was working on before he interrupted. Instead he says, “Could you advise me on disciplinary protocols? The staff member is in your department.”

If Spock recognizes the thin excuse to stay, he doesn’t say anything. He slides into the guest chair and waits for Kirk to take his own seat.

Spock is giving suggestions on how to deal with Gregoria when Kirk zones out. The pen is still poised in his hand but he doesn’t move to take notes.

He can’t help but wonder if this is how the future stretches out in front of them. Putting on a professional facade all day and going home together at night. Maintaining separate addresses to preserve the illusion. Never being able to go out together where they might be seen. Never being able to get married, not even in secret.

The whole idea of it makes Kirk feel trapped in a glass cage. He wants to grab Spock and _run._ Take the car and just keep driving until they find somewhere no one knows them, somewhere to start over.

Even as the thought occurs to him, Kirk knows he can’t do that to Spock. Can’t ask him to leave his work behind, just because he’s too afraid to quit himself.

Silence has fallen. Kirk looks up in time to see Spock watching him with curious eyes. “You are not taking notes,” he points out.

“No.” Kirk sets his pen down, heart thundering in his chest. He doesn’t know what the future is going to bring, barely knows what they’re going to do tonight, but he does know that—right now—he wants Spock.

Kirk stands up, moving slowly around the desk. There’s a strange crackling noise in his ears, like static. Time feels like it’s standing still. The door isn’t closed but he only wants to steal a moment. Surely the world can give him that much.

Spock catches the look in his eyes and stands up, meeting him halfway in a kiss. Their lips barely have time to meet before Kirk is pulling away again. His hands itch to wrap around Spock’s waist, to pull him into a _real_ kiss, but he’s painfully aware of the fact that they’re standing in his office in the middle of the day and literally anyone can walk by and see them.

He’s surprised when it’s Spock’s hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him back in. Kirk resolves to keep it closed-mouthed and quick but then Spock’s tongue traces his bottom lip and all bets are off. He rests his hands around Spock’s waist, eliminating the space between them. His knee slides between Spock’s thighs and the Vulcan grinds down on it.

Spock is hard. Kirk feels dizzy. It’s either the best or the worst idea ever when he pulls away to close the door. When he turns around, Spock is sitting on the edge of the desk.

This is the worst idea ever. They can’t do this. It would be asking to get caught. Spock’s removing his shirt, the release of each new button showing a new bit of skin.

“This is against regulation,” Kirk says, even as he’s already removing his own shirt. He can’t help but feel their roles have reversed here.

“Do you have a copy of the Starfleet manual?” Spock glances around like he might find one just sitting out. “I believe I need to review the regulation that states you can’t fuck me over your own desk.”

Kirk’s knees go weak and he drops his pants to the floor. “I think that’s implied in the one about not dating coworkers.”

Spock slides off the desk and pushes down his own pants. His usual boxers are absent and Kirk’s mouth runs dry. He resists the urge to pinch himself, to make sure this isn’t a dream or a particularly vivid fantasy. It can’t be real. Spock can’t be offering to let him fuck him over a desk.

Kirk’s next thought makes his stomach churn. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the research you conducted, does it?”

For a moment, Spock looks confused and unsure. “No.”

“Good.” Kirk crosses the space between them in two strides and presses their bodies together. Their cocks are caught up between them, rubbing lines of pre-cum on each other’s stomachs. Kirk thinks that he could probably get off just like this, but there’s no way he’s going to pass up Spock’s invitation. He’ll probably never get a chance like this again.

Kirk pulls away and walks to the other side of the desk. Tucked underneath is his briefcase. It used to contain his pad and any work files he needed but now holds a change of clothes, his basic toiletries and, of course, lube and condoms.

He grabs the latter and returns to where Spock has pushed all of his stuff out of the way in order to make room to lay back across his desk. It occurs to Kirk that—if they don’t get busted—he’s never going to be able to get work done here again.

“Time is not unlimited, sir,” Spock says with a teasing smile.

Kirk groans and stands between his legs, leaning over him to capture a kiss. He only waits a few extra seconds before he’s slicking his fingers up and pushing the first one inside. Silence settles over them, interrupted only by the sound of lube and panting breaths.

Kirk slides to his knees as he pushes a second finger beside the first. Spock tenses up when Kirk takes him into his mouth, like he’s not sure if he should push forward or back. Kirk takes the choice out of his hands, working in counterpoint.

He crooks his fingers, rubbing at Spock’s prostate, while he sucks softly at the head of his cock. Spock’s hips buck up off the desk and he lets out a muffled keening noise. Kirk takes him all the way down his throat, pushes in three fingers, and the Vulcan is done. He falls back against the desk as he comes. Kirk swallows it all and gets slowly to his feet.

“Ready?” he murmurs, tracing the shell of Spock’s ear with his tongue.

Spock nods, still gulping down air. Kirk lines himself up and pushes in slowly. He bites his bottom lip, fighting off the need to come. The desk rocks slightly underneath their steady pace. Spock’s feet scramble for the floor before giving up and wrapping around his waist.

Kirk’s mouth finds Spock’s, sharing breath more than actually kissing, as he thrusts in hard one last time. “Oh my _God_ , Spock,” Kirk murmurs as he comes. He savors the moments before he finally has to pull out.

As Spock gets to his feet, an awkward silence descends. Sex. At work. They just had sex at work. A chill runs down Kirk’s spine and then he breaks out laughing, the sound too loud and hysterical. Spock watches him with one eyebrow raised, still leaning naked against Kirk’s desk.

“Nothing,” Kirk says, pushing the laughter aside. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Spock walks over to where his slacks are still in a pile on the floor and pulls them on. Kirk takes that as his cue, sorting out their clothes and pulling on his own.

Kirk tucks in his shirt and pulls his blazer back on. He looks at where Spock is standing fully dressed, watching him. The Vulcan looks perfectly unruffled and, if Kirk hadn’t been directly involved, he’d have no idea what went on in this office. That—and if the whole room didn’t smell like sex.

There’s an old can of Febreeze buried in the bottom of his desk drawer. He pulls it out and sprays it in a circle. Spock doesn’t say anything, just moves to help him straighten things up. There are papers all over the floor and his pad is pushed under the desk.

It takes a few minutes to put his office back in order, but when they’re done Kirk doesn’t know what to say. Normally he’d suggest some cuddling and perhaps a nap, but here there’s nothing to do but get back to work.

“I should return to my office,” Spock says, breaking the silence in the end.

“Yeah,” Kirk says. “I should get back to work.” He crosses the space between them, pulling Spock into one last kiss. He doesn’t want this moment to end. Spock slides his tongue into his mouth, moving slowly, and wraps a hand around the back of Kirk’s neck. It’s sweet and soft, a goodbye and a hello, a…oh shit.

The door slams open behind them, a voice stuttering to a halt in the middle of “Kirk, Kathy needs that disciplinary file right away—”

Silence. Spock’s hand drops away and Kirk leaps away from him, but it’s too late. Marcus stands framed in the doorway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos! I appreciate every single one of them very much. :)

The only thought in Kirk’s mind that manages to break through the static is, _Shouldn’t that have been locked._

Marcus’s eyes are wide, his face tinged with red. He turns around and, for one wild second, Kirk believes he’s just going to leave and then maybe they can never speak of this again. Instead, he closes the door.

Marcus fixes his gaze on Spock, like he expects the Vulcan to provide some logical explanation as to why it looked like they were making out in the middle of Kirk’s office. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Some kind of cultural mix-up. Anything. Spock doesn’t say a word.

Marcus begins with, “Mr. Kirk, Mr. Spock, would you like to tell me what’s going on here?”

“We’re dating,” Kirk says at the same time as Spock’s, “We are engaging in a romantic relationship.”

“I see.” Marcus’s voice is deadly calm. Kirk’s heart stops pounding in his chest and his mind clears. It only takes him a moment to realize just how much he’s had enough of keeping their relationship a secret, just how relieved he is now that it’s out in the open, consequences be damned. “And you are aware of the regulations against such relationships?”

“Only between coworkers in the same department,” Kirk says, putting all his cards on the table.

Marcus looks about as convinced as Spock was by that loophole. “Spock is _your_ assistant.”

“Liaison,” Kirk and Spock reply in unison.

Marcus waves their protest aside. “I cannot overlook this lapse in judgment, Kirk.”

Kirk ducks his head, acid rising in his throat. Spock is the one thing he can think of at the moment that’s never been a lapse in judgment. “It has not interfered with our work and that will continue to be true.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Marcus’s eyes flash. Kirk would be willing to bet that he’d just remembered running into them on their dinner date. “Starfleet has an extensive precedence set. Now I might be able to have you transferred to another office. You did very well in Orlando.”

Fear shoots through Kirk at the idea of having to be that far away all the time. “Thank you, sir, but I’d rather not be transferred.”

“Kirk, you are a strong asset to this office and you could easily reach the highest levels of management. Don’t throw your career away.”

Kirk wouldn’t be surprised if he caught on fire in that moment. He glances at Spock, trying to catch his eye, but the Vulcan doesn’t look over. His gaze is fixed on their boss. “I’m not _throwing_ anything away.”

“Then you’re fired.” Marcus’s hands clasp behind his back. “Clean out your desk by the end of the day. Spock, you will report to me until further notice.”

“Yes, sir,” Spock says. Kirk glances at his boyfriend, but he’s still not looking at him, tension showing in every line of his body. Marcus opens the door and waits for Spock to leave before following behind. Kirk stares through the empty doorway, defeat rushing through him.

It was just one kiss.

It only takes Kirk forty-five minutes to clean out his office, turn in his work phone and pad, and get out. He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone, doesn’t even stop by Spock’s office. Instead, he goes home, lays on the couch, and stares at the ceiling.

This is what he wanted. A relationship without secrecy. But certainly not like this. He has no other job prospects and probably can’t count on anyone at Starfleet for a reference once news gets around that he’s been fired for sleeping with his assistant.

Spock doesn’t come over that night, leaving Kirk to wallow in his uncertainty. He doesn’t sleep well, tossing and turning in a bed that seems too large and cold without a second body in it.

He’s midway through making breakfast in the morning when he realizes that he’s making enough for two. He finishes up and tosses everything in the fridge, stomach rolling.

Feeling like a caged lion, Kirk scrambles for his phone and calls Bones. He must sound godawful because all he gets out is “Can you meet for lunch?” before Bones says, “I’ll be over in five minutes.”

Kirk is sitting on the couch when the door opens without a knock. He looks up, hope burgeoning in his chest that maybe Spock left work to see him, but it’s Bones. His best friend walks across the floor and pushes a can of beer into his hand.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Kirk says, staring at it.

Bones takes the can back and hands him an entire bottle of vodka. Kirk shrugs and takes a swallow, welcoming the burn of alcohol down his throat. He gets a couple swallows in before Bones is taking that from too, with a “Jesus Christ, Jim.”

“I’ve been fired,” Kirk says. “Marcus walked in on Spock and I kissing and fired me on the spot. I haven’t seen Spock since. What if he chooses Starfleet over me, Bones? What if I fucked up with him and my job all at once? Where am I supposed to go? I can’t get a job, not with a reputation for fucking around with my staff.”

Bones hands back the bottle, lets him take another couple gulps, and then snatches it away again. “Maybe he just needs some space to think things over.”

“Yeah.” Kirk slumps down on the couch. His tongue is heavy, slurring his words, though with alcohol or sleep deprivation he’s not sure. “I’m so stupid.”

Bones nods in agreement but he says, “What happened to going into space?”

“Probably fucked up that one too. It’s not like Starfleet is going to hire me _back_.” Kirk braces his elbows on his knees and rests his head against his palms. It’s gone. It’s all gone. Just because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants for a few hours.

Bones stays for the rest of the afternoon. Kirk is too grateful for the company to ask if there’s somewhere he is supposed to be.

They’ve just ordered pizza when the door opens. Kirk’s about to say something about pizza guys being bold these days when he looks over to see Spock.

The Vulcan looks like hell. His normally perfectly ordered hair is disheveled. Dark circles are embedded in the skin below his eyes. He’s wearing the exact same clothes that he was the last time Kirk saw him and his collar has a dark yellow stain across it.

Bones gets up, his entire posture defensive. “Who the hell are you?”

Kirk catches him by the wrist before he can make a move. “Bones, this is Spock.” He gets to his feet, stumbling under the effects of the alcohol. “Spock, this is my best friend, Leonard McCoy.”

“I am glad to meet you.” Spock’s voice is hoarse. He takes a step forward and his knees give like he’s about to fall over. “Jim, I am sorry.”

“Where were you last night?” Kirk wants to keep his distance, wants to keep as clear-headed as he can in his current state, but his feet keep moving towards Spock.

“The office.” Spock reaches out, catching himself with a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk longs to steady him but he doesn’t. “Marcus kept me all night, teaching him protocols for your position.”

Fury surges through Kirk and he wishes that he was capable of moving well enough to find Marcus and punch him in the face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did not have the means to contact you.”

“Oh.” Kirk glances back at his personal phone, the one he rarely ever used because his work devices were enough. “Shit, Spock. I’m sorry.”

“Um. Hello?” The pizza guy knocks on the inside of the still-wide-open door. “Is this 312?”

Kirk doesn’t move, can’t take his eyes off Spock in front of him. Bones grumbles insults under his breath as he hauls himself off the couch and goes to take care of their pizza.

“We should not have acted in such an inappropriate manner at the office,” Spock says, although Kirk doesn’t believe for a second that he really regrets it.

If Kirk’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t either. “It was my office.”

“It was my suggestion.”

“I kissed you first.”

The door slams behind them, the smell of pizza filling the room. Bones snaps, “You were both idiots. Now are you really going to argue about who swung first?”

Kirk ducks his head, abashed. The corners of Spock’s mouth turn up in a grim smile. Kirk leans in, desperate to kiss him. It’s not the best kiss they’ve ever had, sloppy with drunkenness on Kirk’s side and exhaustion on Spock’s, but that doesn’t make it any less perfect. Bones snorts behind them and says, “Jim, is that my cue to scram?”

Kirk pulls out of the kiss with a sigh and leans his forehead on Spock’s shoulder for a moment, just relishing the fact that he’s here and they’re okay. “Stay,” he says, finally turning back to Bones. “Both of you. For dinner, at least.”

“Fine.” Bones flips open the top of the pizza box and pulls out a slice. “Just try to keep from mashing faces while I’m here.”

Spock joins them on the couch, practically falling into the space on the other end. There’s just enough room for Kirk to fit in between him and Bones.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Kirk asks, pulling out his own slice of pizza.

“I did not.” A drop of sauce joins the yellow stain on Spock’s collar but he barely seems to notice.

Bones scoffs again. “I am not up to date on the limitations of Vulcans, but I believe even you need rest.”

“You are correct.” Spock looks like his eyes might slip closed at any moment. “I am quite accustomed to receiving four hours of rest in every day.”

“Does he always talk like that?” Bones leans over to murmur in Kirk’s ear. He nods in reply. Bones shakes his head.

Everything seems to go well after that, all things considered. Bones talks a little bit about himself, his history as a doctor and his future as a medical officer. Spock offers some advice about medicine in space and they end up bonding over an intense debate on minor differences in blood across humanoid species.

It’s late by the time Bones gets to his feet. “I’m meeting with my new captain tomorrow,” he says. “I should go home. And you two should rest.” He fixes Spock with his “stern doctor” stare.

“Thanks, Bones,” Kirk says. “For everything.” His best friend gives him a nod before heading out the door.

Once he’s gone, Kirk locks up behind him and pulls Spock to his feet. They strip each other down with slow hands before crawling into bed. Kirk tangles himself up in Spock’s limbs and rests his head against his chest. “I missed you last night.”

“The logical course of action was to stay at the office,” Spock replies, his words not quite slurred but still slower than usual. “Even if it was not the one I desired.”

Kirk holds him tighter and closes his eyes.

It’s twice as hard for Kirk to let Spock climb out of bed the next morning, knowing that he won’t be following him to the office today. The silence weighs on him as he tries to go back to sleep.

In the end, Kirk gets up and heats the bacon that he made the day before. It isn’t long before the feeling of being trapped starts to well within him again.

Needing to blow off some steam, he heads across the street to the gym and spends a couple hours whacking a punching bag until sweat runs down his back. Is every day going to be like this? Him staying home and trying to find something to stave off the boredom while Spock goes to work alone?

The hours pass like snails, each one slower than the next. He ends up cleaning the apartment—a full, deep cleaning that he’s probably never done for as long as he’s lived here. He slides his dresser over to make room to vacuum when he finds a slip of paper.

Kirk picks it up. Not a slip of paper. A business card. He tosses it aside and keeps cleaning.

Kirk is on his hands and knees, nose burning with the smell of cleaning solutions, when he hears the door snap closed. He tugs off his gloves and drops them in the sink. Spock’s nose is wrinkled as he stands in the middle of the (rearranged) living room.

“You’re not supposed to get off for another hour,” Kirk says.

Spock is practically quivering with tension. “I resigned.”

“You did what?” Kirk’s eyes widen. “Spock, you love the science department. What about your experiments?”

“I can conduct research elsewhere.” Spock steps across the floor and takes his hand. His other reaches for Kirk’s face. “May I?”

Kirk nods his permission and closes his eyes. They’re standing in his office, Marcus behind Kirk’s old desk, Spock standing on the other side. Kirk feels like a ghost, not watching from above or from behind Spock’s eyes, but like he’s standing there unable to be seen. The Vulcan looks perfectly calm but tension still crackles in the air.

“I want you to take over Kirk’s position,” Marcus says, his voice suggesting that it’s not an offer but an order. “Your official department will remain the science division, but you will be in charge of facilitating communication between all departments and any duties that I assign.”

“I appreciate the offer, sir, but I took this position to take on additional duties within the command sector in addition to my research.” Spock’s eyes are dark, more so than Kirk has ever seen them. His muscles aren’t tensed, his fists relaxed at his side, but he seems to radiate a cold anger that sends chills down Kirk’s spine.

“There are no other candidates for the position.” Marcus rests his hand against the desk. “You are more than qualified.”

“I must decline.”

Marcus stands up, glaring at him. “You will take the job or you will clean out your desk.”

Spock doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. “I resign.”

“You came here to work for Starfleet.” Marcus sits back down, his mouth hanging open slightly with surprise. “Are you sure that you want to do this?”

“I resign,” Spock repeats without hesitation. He turns to leave and then pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. There’s a laughter in his eyes that Kirk doesn’t know how to interpret. “I must inform you that, prior to your entrance to his office, Kirk and I engaged in sexual relations. On that desk.”

Kirk catches a glimpse of Marcus’s face as he yanks his hand away from the surface. Then Spock turns again and the memory ends.

Spock lets him float in the connection for a moment. The two of them share in a strange mixture of fear, euphoria, and triumph before he pulls his hand away.

“Did you really say that?” Kirk asks, his stomach hurting with suppressed laughter. Spock nods and he lets go, doubling over. Once he gets a grip on himself again, he takes Spock by the hand and leads him over to the couch. “Do you have any thoughts of what to do now?”

“I do not know.” Uncertainty flashes through the mask that Spock usually wears over his expressions. “I have not considered our options.”

 _Our options._ Kirk likes the sound of that. “Could you enter the private sector? I’m sure there’s someone who would be glad of your skills.”

“Many research facilities outside of Starfleet are not known to be kind to Vulcan researchers,” Spock replies. “However, I will reach out to my contacts.”

Kirk nods. “Unfortunately, I think I’ve burned most of my bridges. I can’t get a high-level position without references and well…”

“Admiral Marcus will not speak of you favorably.” Spock rests a hand against his arm. “Perhaps with time there will be an appropriate opening.”

“Maybe.” Kirk sighs and reaches for his pad before he remembers that he doesn’t have one anymore. “Actually, I did meet someone in Orlando who suggested that I get in contact with him if I changed my mind about going into space.” Kirk tells him all about Admiral Pike and his offer.

“You should contact him,” Spock says with a wry smile. “Captain Kirk.”

“It has a nice ring to it.” Kirk pauses, licking his lips. “Would you come with me?”

Spock twines their fingers together. “Where else would I go?”

Kirk leans in to add a human kiss to their Vulcan one and then heads to his bedroom while his resolve holds. Pike’s card is still resting on his dresser where he left it.

Kirk goes back to the couch and settles down on the edge, taking deep breaths as he dials the number. A male voice—not Pike—picks up with, “Admiral Pike’s office.”

“Hello. Can you tell me if Admiral Pike is currently off-world?” Kirk asks through the lump in his throat. This might be the best chance he has to make it back to the world he was born into.

“He is,” the man replies, followed by a couple clicks of a mouse. “He is due to return for shore leave in six days. Can I take a message?”

“Tell him James Kirk would like to discuss the offer he made in Orlando.” Jim rattles off his number and says his goodbyes. He tries not to let out a sigh as he turns to Spock and tells him what the man said.

Six days may not be very long but right now it seems like a lifetime.

They don’t leave the building the first day, reveling in each other and their newfound freedom. Bones comes over for dinner so they can tell him the news about Spock’s job. He talks about preparing to go into space and promises to suggest them both to his captain as candidates if there’s ever an open position.

On day two, Spock goes to his apartment to grab the rest of his stuff and close out the lease. Without regulations to hold them back, Kirk doesn’t see any reason why Spock can’t just move in with him. Not when they’re practically living together anyway.

Spock’s plants fit easily next to the window in the bedroom, his portrait in the living room, and his kitchen utensils alongside Kirk’s. His shelves turn out not to fit so his books end up in boxes in a corner, with the promise that they’ll come out as soon as they can find suitable shelves.

Day three, Spock comes back from an interview with a private research company seething about their non-disclosure policies. Kirk doesn’t suggest that he apply to more companies, at least not until he knows where things stand with Pike.

Days four and five stretch on with impenetrable boredom. Spock gets a call from Starfleet that turns out to be his old science department colleagues in a scramble over what they’re supposed to do with his now-abandoned studies. He heads out to deal with them, leaving Kirk alone. He finds himself searching for management positions and applies to several.

Day six passes without a phone call from Pike, leaving Kirk panicking that he’d completely misread the whole situation. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d heard what happened with Marcus and didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. He’s about to give up hope when the phone rings.

“Hello?” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels.

“This is Admiral Pike’s office.” The voice is different this time, a woman’s. “He has instructed me to set up a meeting with you, if you are available. He’s only on shore leave for the next two days.”

“Yes, I’m available.” Kirk scrambles for a pen. Spock hands him one wordlessly. “Anytime is good for me.”

They agree on seven in the evening at a local restaurant and Kirk forgets how to breathe for a moment when he hangs up. It’s only a few hours to wait but after six days it goes by in a whirlwind. Kirk doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous, not when he applied to the Academy, not when he got his first job, not even when Marcus told him he’d seen better reports written by a twelve-year-old.

“I want you to come with me,” Kirk says, frantically digging through his closet as he tries to decide whether he should be wearing a tie.

“I was not invited,” Spock replies, watching him from the bed.

Kirk throws him a blue button-up. “This is for you as well as me. Please.”

Spock puts on the shirt.

Pike’s sitting at a corner table by the window when Kirk and Spock arrive. He looks surprised that Kirk isn’t alone but silently snatches a chair from an empty table.

“This is Mr. Spock,” Kirk says as he takes his seat. “Spock, Admiral Pike.”

“It is good to meet you.” Pike sits down and waits for Spock to settle before he continues. “I’ve heard you’ve been busy since we spoke last.”

Kirk ducks his head. “I understand if you don’t want to overrule Admiral Marcus.”

“If Marcus’s opinion meant anything to me, I wouldn’t be here.” Pike’s smile tightens. “I assume Spock was involved.”

“We were—and are—in a relationship,” Spock confirms, keeping a steady gaze the admiral.

Pike takes the whole thing in stride. “And if you were to join the ranks of Starfleet officers, you would wish to be on the same ship?”

“That would be ideal,” Spock says.

They’re interrupted by the arrival of a waiter. They order drinks and silence follows as he walks away. Pike says, “I know Kirk has always served in a command capacity. Do you have a preference?”

“I am a scientist,” Spock replies. “I would welcome any opportunity but my desires are to be a science officer.”

“He served as a researcher for Starfleet,” Kirk adds, “before he became my liaison.”

“Understood.” Pike takes a long drink of his soda when it arrives. “Being fired from Earth assignments is not like being dismissed from intergalactic service, but it’s certainly not to be taken lightly. This will not be easy, for either of you.”

“We understand,” Kirk says.

“There may be disciplinary hearings and there is always a chance you will come under the service of Admiral Marcus.” Pike’s forehead wrinkles slightly.

“I’m willing to try,” Kirk says. Pike turns his eyes on Spock and waits.

Spock looks at Kirk as he says, “It is the best course of action.”

Pike nods, a small smile on his face. As they polish off their drinks, Pike explains where they’ll have to go from here, all the steps they may or may not have to take in order to become officers, and the kinds of responsibilities they’ll have once they do.

“I’ll start the process for you,” Pike says as they’re getting to their feet. “I’ll be in contact before the end of the week.”

“Thank you,” Kirk says as he shakes the man’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Pike’s smile is wry. “Thank me by becoming the best damn officer in the fleet.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Kirk says and then they’re heading out.

The week drags on after that. Kirk takes Spock around the city, showing him everything he wasn’t able to before—either because of time or in the interest of keeping up platonic appearances. They go out to dinner every night, a new place each time.

It’s only been five days by the time the phone rings and it’s an unknown number. Kirk picks up with shaking hands. “Kirk,” Pike’s voice says from the other end of the line.

“Admiral.” Kirk forgets how to speak for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be off-world?”

“Don’t worry about where I’m supposed to be. Starfleet has accepted my recommendation to bring you into service. Both of you.” Kirk falls to his knees, heart rising in his chest. They’re in. They’re going to be officers. “Get to Starfleet Academy and talk to Lieutenant Colonel Harley. She’ll tell you what you need to do next.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. Do what I told you,” he snaps but the whole thing is softened by laughter.

“Yes, sir.” Kirk hangs up. He means to run and tell Spock the good news, but falls into a kiss instead. It’s several minutes before he’s able to get all the words out.

One trip to Starfleet Academy, several reams of paperwork, countless meetings with officers, and one Kobayashi Maru later and Kirk is a bona fide Starfleet officer. Spock has it a little easier—just as much paperwork but mostly meetings with fellow scientists and no Kobayashi Maru.

Kirk tugs at his gold command uniform as he stands in a bay filled with docked starships. Pike stands next to him, supervising the restocking of his own USS Tango. Spock’s off to the side, practically interrogating Pike’s chief science officer.

Marcus passes by, ignoring the both of them with single-minded intensity. Kirk resists the urge to smile at the man’s retreating back.

Kirk’s eyes are drawn to the ship across from theirs, the newly christened USS Enterprise. The ship is still a month away from intergalactic travel but looks even more beautiful in person than drawn across a piece of paper.

Pike turns around and follows his gaze, then slaps a hand on his shoulder. “It hasn’t been officially announced so don’t spread it around, but I’ve already been chosen as her captain for the maiden voyage,” he says in a low voice. “If all goes well, I’m going to refer you to be her permanent captain.”

“And Spock?” The Vulcan is the only thing that can pull Kirk’s eyes away from the new ship. Pike’s science officer is getting increasingly incensed while Spock is the picture of calm as the debate continues.

“You’ll be captain,” Pike says. “You can choose whatever personnel you wish to serve under you. Perhaps as, I don’t know, a chief science officer.”

Kirk grins at the idea, picturing himself in the captain’s chair with Spock at his side. And maybe Bones on the other side. They’ll need medical officers after all.

He starts to say thank you, but halts the words in his throat for, “I’ll do her proud, sir.”

“I know.” Pike starts forward as the last box is loaded up. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise. Now come to the bridge. I wouldn’t want you to miss your first launch.”

“I will, sir.” Kirk walks over and pulls his boyfriend away from the science officer with an apologetic smile.

They all follow Pike up into the cargo hold and across to the bridge. Pike takes his seat in the captain’s chair, navigator and pilot already in place. Kirk stands looking at the view of the bay, Spock’s fingers around his own.

In a minute they’ll have to leave for their posts, Spock with the other science officers and Kirk waiting for his own shift on the bridge, but for now they have this.

As the clamps release from the ship and it lifts off the ground, Kirk can’t help but think about how _right_ this feels, with Spock beside him and a golden uniform clinging to his skin. They lift off the ground, rising quickly until the stars are folding over their heads.

Goosebumps rise on his arms as they settle into space and Pike says, “Take us out.”


End file.
